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Cliap.T?.2-S Copyright No. 

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THE WILL AND THE WAY. 


BY y 

SUSAN M. BELSER. 

'1 



PHII,ADEI,PHIA, PA.: 

LUTHERAN PUBLICATION SOCIETY. 


90783 


Ubrairy of Coni3rr««*| 

Two Comes Received 1 
DEC 19 1900 

* Copyfigtit 

JftnJ.S, 

SECOND COPY 

0«<M««d to 

ORDER DIVISION 

DEC 22 19QQ 


TZ. 2> 


Copyright, 1900, 

BY THE 

I.U'KBLERAN PUBI^ICATION SOCIETY. 








TO ONE WHO ADVISED, ENCOURAGED, AND AIDED 
STRUGGLING, SELF-SUPPORTING STUDENTS, 
THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED. 


“The ‘way’ is hard work and the ‘will’ to do it leads to 
success. ’ ''—Jean A ndrews. 


PREFACE. 


The purpose novel, written for the entertain- 
ment of maturer minds, has recently met with just 
criticism ; but when a narrative has been prepared 
especially for the young, it may aim to mould, as 
well as instruct and amuse, without violation of 
ethical laws. 

The story of Jean Andrews purposes to suggest 
the possibility of self-education to the ambitious 
youth who is hedged in by difficulties and disad- 
vantages. It also purposes to show to parents and 
guardians, who are considering a future for those 
in their charge, that good results naturally follow 
the careful selection of an environment where the 
proper influences predominate. 

The story is not a “ true story ” in the sense in 
which the term is generally understood ; yet the 
characters described lived and acted, and some are 
to-day occupying positions of trust and honor in 
the world, while others have passed over into the 
beyond, and have left behind them the examples 

(v) 


VI 


preface. 


of noble manhood and womanhood, to inspire other 
lives. 

In her long association with college life and 
college students, the writer has met many heroic- 
ally independent individuals. In some instances 
class honors have been carried off by those who 
were dependent upon their own efforts for their ad- 
vancement, and at the same time were forced by 
circumstances to aid in the support of helpless 
parents or younger brothers and sisters. 

Many of these illustrations have been omitted, 
lest “ truth should prove stranger than fiction,” 
and challenge the credulity of the reader. 

If the advantages of leading a Christian student 
life should be impressed upon the youthful minds 
perusing these pages, and incidentally a desire to 
know ‘‘ the whole truth ” should be awakened, the 
‘‘purpose” of the book will have been attained. 


BournER, CoEO., November, 1900. 


CONTENTS, 


PAGE 

CHAPTER I. 

The Farmer’s Family ii 

CHAPTER n. 

Jack at Home 20 

CHAPTER m. 

SlEVESTER 28 

CHAPTER IV. 

Rev. Simons 33 

CHAPTER V. 

Jack’s Pean 40 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Interval 51 

CHAPTER VII. 

Jean’s First Day at Schooe 57 

CHAPTER Vin. 

Jack s Friend 76 

(vii) 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTER IX. 

Jean’s Eei^ter 83 

CHAPTER X. 

Jean at Work 89 

CHAPTER XI. 

Katie’s Prayer Meeting 102 

CHAPTER XII. 

Jean’s Difficuety 114 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Evening with Miss Meiee 128 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Dick Seeks the Truth 137 

CHAPTER XV. 

Harry Turner 15 1 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Haeeoween Ghost 162 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Thanksgiving 172 

CHAPTER XVIII. 


The Latin Ceass 


189 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


PAGE 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Ratio’s Dejath 202 

CHAPTER XX. 

Christmas at the; Farm 212 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The Farmer’s Consent 2'>7 

CHAPTER XXH. 

Dick’s Resoeution 235 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Seeigh Ride 247 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Jean’s Schooe * . . . . 259 

CHAPTER XXV. 

The Mother’s Ieeness 274 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Jean Re-enters the Latin Ceass 287 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The Ghost’s End 305 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Jean’s Easter 312 


X 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTER XXIX. 


Miss Me;ii<b 318 

CHAPTER XXX. 

jKAN’s Success 327 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


'I'HE End 


333 


THE WILL AND THE WAY. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE farmer’s family. 

‘‘ Thou canst not do it, Jean.” 

Mother, I 

The clear, gray eyes of the speaker flashed for 
one instant with a determined light that seemed 
quite unusual to their placid depths. 

A sigh escaped from the lips of the mother, as 
she turned her pale face and earnestly regarded her 
only daughter. 

Jean Andrews was not handsome, yet she was by 
no means unattractive in her neat cotton gown and 
white apron, as she stood by the open window, 
gazing, with an expectant look, down the long 
lane. The dark-brown hair rippled back from a 
broad, white forehead, and was loosely coiled at the 
back of the shapely head in a manner most becom- 
ing to its owner. There was an air of refinement 
about the girlish figure, which was quite in keep- 
(II) 


12 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


ing with the modest but pretty dining-room, where 
Jean and her mother were awaiting Farmer An- 
drews’ return from the distant city. The table, 
with its snowy linen, its glittering glass and dainty 
china, had a large bouquet of fragrant June roses, 
which gave to it a holiday air, as if some unusual 
guest were about to partake of the farm-house hos- 
pitality. 

A look of care rested upon the face of the young 
girl at the window. She glanced about to make 
sure that nothing had been forgotten, then crossed 
the room to the invalid’s chair and deftly fastened 
a sprig of mignonnette in the snowy folds of her 
neckerchief. 

“ To welcome Jack home.” 

“ I wish much that thy father and Jack would 
not discuss the matter to-night, Jean.” 

“Never mind, mother, everything will come out 
all right yet,” cheerfully responded the girl, while 
she lovingly smoothed the gray hairs back under 
the mother’s white cap, and then resumed her 
former position by the window. 

Farmer Andrews had descended from a most 
conservative Quaker family. In early life he had 
drifted westward, tarrying long enough in Ohio to 
v/oo and win the pretty but delicate daughter of a 
distant relative. Together the pair — in the pioneer 


THE farmer’s FAMIEY. 


13 


days of Illinois, when the railroad extended no fur- 
ther westward than the village of Chicago — had 
driven to the fertile prairies of Rock River Valley. 
The home which they had reared at first was 
humble ; but industry, combined with economy, 
had gradually increased their originally small 
capital until Farmer Andrews had become one of 
the solid men in that now wealthy farming district. 
His scrupulous honesty, combined with business 
tact, had won for him the respect and confidence of 
his neighbors. In all line-fence difficulties and 
questions of damage to crops or flocks from adjoin- 
ing fields and herds his judgment was appealed to 
and his decisions considered final. 

Three sturdy sons had preceded Jean in the 
western prairie home, and the advent of a daughter 
was hailed with delight by both parents. Two 
more sons followed, and then, just as little Jean was 
nearing her eighth birthday, came the terrible 
accident which rendered the mother helpless and 
left upon the child a burden which older shoulders 
could not have borne easily. 

When the long, dark days of suspense were 
finally over, and the sufferer was able to sit at 
intervals in an easy wheel-chair, the housemaid 
assisted Jean in caring for her mother ; but gradu- 
ally other duties absorbed Katherine’s time, and 


14 


THE WIEL AND THE WAY. 


the whole responsibility rested upon the patient, 
willing little daughter. After that the girlish 
laugh was seldom heard in the home, and the smile 
of childish innocence gave way to a look of grave 
anxiety. The younger boys, while mere babes, 
learned to turn to the little sister for the mother 
comfort denied them elsewhere. 

As the years passed, Jean’s cares multiplied. 
Her brothers were started to school ; their clothing 
neatly kept. The many needs of the household 
were provided for by her. Jean became the moth- 
er's constant companion. No one knew so well 
how to arrange the pillows in order to rest the 
aching back, or to wheel the chair so that it would 
not jar. So indispensable had she become to the 
invalid’s comfort, and so accustomed had the family 
grown to her unselfish devotion, that no one seemed 
to remember that the strong, young arms often 
tired with the constant lifting and wheeling, or 
that the sweet girl-life was almost crushed by the 
double care of nursing and housekeeping. Not 
even when the mother’s sufferings reached an acute 
stage did the other members of the household offer 
to relieve her. 

Caring continually for home and mother inter- 
fered sadly with Jean’s studies. At times, when it 
seemed to her that she could be spared, she would 


THE farmer’s FAMIEY. 


15 


make an effort to attend the school in the neigh- 
boring village ; but the relapse was sure to come, 
and the patient little nurse would again be confined 
to the bedside of her charge. 

Jean kept her books constantly at her side, and 
during intervals, while the mother slept, she read 
or studied. The eager mind had taken advantage 
of every opportunity. The school-books which her 
brother Richard discarded became her property. 
The volumes in the little corner cupboard library 
of the family sitting-room she read and re-read 
many times. She had plodded her way through 
“ Doddridge’s Rise and Progress,” ‘‘ The Lives of 
the Apostles,” and ‘‘Josephus,” whilst the “Lion 
of the Tribe of Judah ” and “ The Pilgrim’s Pro- 
gress ” she knew by heart. Two volumes had 
strayed into the quaint collection of books in the 
farm-house which afforded Jean a glimpse of the 
outside world and were her especial delight — the 
one a book of travels and the other a bound volume 
of old magazines. 

No one but brother Jack seemed to realize that 
Jean’s education had been neglected and that a keen 
intellect was chafing against its prison bars. 

Farmer Andrews desired for his sons a fairly good 
education. He had had some advantages himself, 
and honestly attributed his success to that fact. He 


1 6 THE WIEE and the WAY. 

had hoped, however, to see all his children settle 
down to the quiet farm-life eventually, and accord- 
ingly had planned to become the owner of six of the 
finest farms in the valley — “ One for each of the 
children,” he was wont to say. So far only John, 
the eldest, seemed inclined to follow his father’s 
wishes in the choice of his vocation. Jackson, the 
second son, had been far from satisfied with his 
attainments when the country school-teachers could 
no longer render him assistance. Under the direc- 
tion of a neighboring priest, he had continued his 
studies until he had been able to enter college, and 
then, by what Farmer Andrews termed a foolish 
sacrifice of his fine saddle-horse and two blooded 
heifers, he had been able to attend college through 
his freshman year. Now Dick was asking to be 
allowed to follow Jack’s example. The farmer 
ceased to oppose his sons in their preparation for 
life ; there could be no harm in their becoming doc- 
tors and lawyers if they preferred that life to the 
farm. Jack was now urging that Jean be sent away 
also ; that she be allowed to attend the preparatory 
school held in connection with the college which he 
attended. That to the farmer was sheer nonsense. 
His Hetty had been one of the finest housekeepers 
in the country before her illness ; her butter had 
always brought the highest market price, with 


THE farmer’s FAMIEY. 


17 


something additional when filling special orders 
from the city ; and Hetty’s bread and custard pies 
were beyond comparison. Jean could read and 
write ; she was remarkably quick with figures also. 
He had purchased her a fine organ two years before, 
when he had sold the steers ; she could play well 
enough for the union services in the village school- 
house ; she knew how to sew and could manage the 
home nicely. When Katherine had the fever, Jean 
had done all the cooking for the men, and it had 
been almost as good as her mother’s used to be. No, 
indeed ! Jean could not go away ; she could not be 
spared. Who could fill her place with the mother ? 
Jean had always been a dutiful daughter, and he 
meant to reward her ; the homestead, with all the 
furniture and the black Jerseys, were to be hers. 

Jack, at the end of his junior year, was coming 
home to spend his vacation. He had had no finan- 
cial aid from home thus far. 

“ The boy is made of plucky stuff,” said Farmer 
Andrews aloud, with a chuckle, as he slipped the 
bridle over Topsy’s nose, preparatory to driving to 
the city to meet his boy. It was with a conscious 
thrill of pride that he recognized the broad-shoul- 
dered athlete, who greeted him with a hearty “Hello, 
father,” as his son. We may readily pardon him 
for taking a roundabout way to where Topsy was 
2 


1 8 THE WIEIy AND THE WAY. 

Standing, in order that they might pass the judge 
of the Circuit Court, to whom he introduced Jack 
as “ my boy.” 

The farmer was most agreeably disappointed in 
his son. Jack was a fine fellow — no mistake about 
that — and the farmer smiled as he thought of how 
he would make the hay rustle in spite of his college 
training. 

At home, Jean was anxiously waiting to see 
Topsy’s white nose make the turn at the end of the 
lane. Jack — dear, loving, brother Jack — would 
soon be home. He had been away for one entire 
year ; not even at Christmas-time had they seen 
him. He had been given a secretaryship in the 
president’s office of the college, and his short vaca- 
tions had been fully occupied. 

Jack had promised Jean that he would take her 
back with him in September, and that was the 
thought uppermost in the girl’s mind as she waited * 
that had been the subject of the conversation be- 
tween herself and her mother. 

Jack had arranged to have Aunt Josephine, a 
poor widowed sister of the invalid, come to take 
Jean’s place as housekeeper and companion, and 
then — “ Father must get a nurse from the city to do 
the rest,” he wrote. 

Jean had carried that letter in her pocket ever 


THE farmer’s family. 


19 


since she had received it, and had read it many 
times. 

There they come ! ” she exclaimed, as she 
rushed off through the kitchen to tell Katherine 
the news, and then down the path to the gate to 
welcome them. The large, black dog, resting in 
the shade of the house, leaped to his feet and trotted 
at her heels. The pair halted under the lilac bushes. 
Jean rested her hand upon the dog’s head and talked 
to him about Jack. They had had many such con- 
ferences before, in which Jean did the talking, while 
the dog looked at her sympathetically with his 
large, brown eyes, and wagged his tail in a most 
approving manner. 


CHAPTER 11. 


JACK AT HOME. 

“ The first sure symptom of a mind in health 
Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home.” 

— Young. 

The days passed rapidly with Jack at home, and 
no one was happier than Jack himself. The free- 
dom of the country was in delightful contrast with 
the office work and close application to study. 

Jack was almost a boy again. With Robert and 
Freddie — the two younger brothers — he chased but- 
terflies, hunted wild strawberries, or angled for the 
little cat-fish with which the creek abounded. With 
Dick he drove the colts and accustomed them to the 
road. He loved especially to work with the men, 
and frequently his merry laughter rang out in the 
harvest-field, when, in a closely-matched contest, he 
came out ahead. 

Farmer Andrews prided himself upon his fine col- 
lection of flowers ; many rare and beautiful varie- 
ties graced the well-kept lawn. Jack was not slow 
to learn that it added to his father’s pleasure to have 
(20) 


JACK AT HOME. 


21 


him show an interest also, and he did not hesitate 
to take the rake or spade from the farmer’s hands 
and work upon the grounds. At such times Jack 
and his father would discuss political or financial 
questions with interest. The proud parent listened 
to his second son with a pleasure he would have 
been slow to acknowledge ; but later in the day, 
when he drove to the village, he would say to the 
neighbors gathered at the corner grocery store, wait- 
ing for their mail : 

“ It hasn’t spoiled Jack one bit to go to school ; 
he enjoys work as well as ever, and I don’t know 
but that Dick may go, too, when the crops are in.” 

Jack had left all his text-books at college ; but 
in one corner of his modest trunk several volumes 
for Jean had found place. 

He frequently sat by the mother’s side after 
having tucked a book into his sister’s hand. 

Such glorious afternoons ! Jean, with Dion at 
her side, wandered through the long paths, across 
the meadow to the woods, and, seating herself in the 
little boat, kept for the convenience of the men, 
rowed down the creek, into the shade of a large oak 
tree, growing on the bank, and, having fastened the 
boat chain into the gnarled roots, was soon lost to 
her surroundings while devouring the book which 
Jack had given her. 


22 


THE WIEL AND THE WAY. 


The evenings were spent with song and music. 
Dick^s rich bass blended nicely with Jack’s tenor in 
singing college songs to the accompaniment of the 
mandolin. At times they would sing some old 
familiar hymn, in which all would join. It was a 
happy summer for the entire family ; even Kath- 
erine and old Jacob shared its pleasures. One even- 
ing it occurred to Jean that it could not last much 
longer. Almost one-half of Jack’s vacation was 
over, and so far no mention of her returning to 
school with him had been made. 

Again Jean stood at the dining-room window, 
looking down the lane toward the public road. 
The birds twitted and chirped in the tall walnut 
trees outside ; the sun had just disappeared behind 
the hill, leaving everything bathed in rose and gold. 

Jean was blind to the beauty around her. With a 
heavy heart she passed out of the open door and 
dovm the lane. She walked slowly until she reached 
-the old cherry tree by the roadside — there she paused 
to look back upon the home scene. The white 
farm-house nestled amid the trees and vines, and 
made a pretty picture. 

“ It would be hard to leave home,” said Jean 
aloud ; “to break loose from everything. But then 
I would not care to go as Jack does, year after year ; 
one term would satisfy me.” 


JACK AT HOME. 


23 


A rustle in the branches above startled Jean. 
Jack leaped down by her side. 

“ Star-gazing, little one ? ” 

‘‘No, Jack. I was only thinking about school,” 
said Jean hesitatingly. 

“ I have been thinking about it myself, Jean, ever 
since I came home,” said Jack, in a discouraged 
tone ; “ somehow the right time to approach father 
has not come yet.” 

“ I may have been selfish,” continued Jack after 
a short silence. “ I have been having such a glo- 
riously good time that I hated to spoil everything 
with a scene. Of course it is possible under any cir- 
cumstances — you will soon be eighteen, and ” 

“ Oh, no. Jack ! ” interrupted Jean. “ I will not 
go at all unless both father and mother consent ; and 
it does not seem right at times to leave mother.” 

“ Now, Jean, you must not make yourself miser- 
able over questions of duty. You owe something 
to yourself. Mother will be better for the change. 
Aunt Jo can tell her about her travels, and the 
gabbling nurses can entertain her with character 
sketches from real life. You will come home after 
a few months with new experiences and new ideas 
to relate. It will benefit mother as well as your- 
self, and as long as she is as well as she now seems 
to be, anyone can take care of her. Should one of 


24 


THE WIEE and the WAY. 


the hard spells come, you could reach her in a few 
hours.” 

‘‘ Then,” continued Jack, “ there are John and his 
wife ” 

“ Mother wouldn’t let John’s wife do anything 
for her,” exclaimed Jean. “ She has never forgiven 
him for marrying an outsider.” 

Jack looked amused, but Jean’s allusion to her 
mother’s peculiar faith brought to his mind another 
not wholly unimportant subject. 

“ How about your wardrobe, Jean ? ” he inquired. 

“ I have thought about that, and I am nearly 
ready. I need a few things yet. I would like some 
gloves and either a feather or a flower in my hat,” 
replied the girl in a half-ashamed manner, as if she 
feared that Jack might consider her foolish. 

“ That’s all right, Jean ; but do not cross mother 
in the matter of dress now. Those little fandangoes 
can be added later. I imagine there will be trouble 
enough before we get you off. Neighbor Allen will 
not consider a boarding-school the proper place for 
the maiden’s housewifely training.” 

Jack spoke sarcastically, almost bitterly. The 
one skeleton in the otherwise happy home was the te- 
nacity with which the mother clung to the teachings 
and customs of her childhood. Farmer Andrews 
had long since dropped his “ thees” and ‘‘ thous,” 


JACK AT HOME. 


25 


and worshiped with the neighbors in the school- 
house. Not so his wife. With a few of her own 
faith, she had endeavored to educate her children in 
the ways of her sect. Jean had worn her gray 
gowns and her odd little Quaker bonnets until, going 
with her father to the city to purchase the winter’s 
flannels, the strangely-dressed child had attracted the 
attention of a group of boisterous school-girls stand- 
ing on a corner. The remarks of one of the tallest of 
the girls were followed by peals of laughter from the 
others. Jean’s eyes were so full of tears that when 
she turned into the nearest store she could scarcely 
see the goods from which she had to make her selec- 
tions. Once outside the city she had opened her 
heart to her father. The girls at home were neither 
rude nor unkind, yet Jean had often seen a smile — 
half pity, half contempt — upon their faces when she 
took her place in the Sunday-school class. 

Farmer Andrews was neither slow to think nor 
to act. Without one word, he turned Topsy’s head 
in the direction they had just come. His com- 
pressed lips indicated that he was in an unusually 
determined state of mind. At the first milliner 
shop they halted. 

“ Go in, Jean, and get yourself any hat that may 
suit you.” 

The girl’s heart bounded with delight, and then 


26 


THK WILIv AND THE WAY. 


a frightened look came into her eyes as she 
said : 

“ What will mother say? ” 

‘‘ Never mind, child ; do as I tell you,” sternly 
commanded the father. 

Jean was not long in selecting a plain white braid 
with blue streamers. Never would she forget her 
mother’s astonished look, when, with her purchase, 
she appeared before her. 

Farmer Andrews followed Jean into his wife’s 
presence, and calmly but firmly said that henceforth 
she was to be allowed to consult her own tastes in 
the matter of dress, and that Neighbor Allen was no 
longer to be considered the adviser in family mat- 
ters. 

That was the forerunner of many similar ex- 
periences. The organ had been pronounced worldly 
by Neighbor Allen, and so sharply did he contest its 
purchase that Jean would gladly have foregone the 
pleasure of possessing it rather than to see her 
mother so unhappy. 

All these things passed rapidly through Jean’s 
mind while her brother was speaking, and she could 
not still the bitter feeling which crept into her soul 
when she realized that her life had been rendered 
unnecessarily hard by her mother’s religion. 

Jack conjectured the nature of his sister’s 


JACK AT HOME. 27 

trxoughts, and blamed himself for having called 
them forth. He bade her return to the house. 

“ Make mother comfortable for the night,” he 
said, and some other time we will talk this over. 
Of one thing rest assured, you are going to school 
this fall.” Stooping over he lightly kissed her on 
the forehead. 

“ Good-night, Jean.” 


CHAPTER III. 


SILVESTER. 

“ He who adheres to a sect has something of its cant ; tne 
college air pursues a student.” — Lavater. 

Jean slowly retraced her steps, with mind ill at 
ease. Jack’s hearty manner had reassured her, but 
his allusion to his happy visit, and his reluctance 
to make it unpleasant, made her sad. Heretofore, 
in family difficulties, her father had always sided 
with her, but now she must take a decided stand 
against both her father and her mother. 

She felt that Jack v/as right, and that her cause 
was just ; but her love for her parents conflicted 
with her duty to herself, as Jack had called her 
desire to go to school. 

Jean halted at the gate to watch the moon rise 
from behind the cloud in the east ; she felt inclined 
to abandon her long-cherished hope of gaining an 
education, and quietly to remain at home with her 
parents. Just then a tall young man emerged from 
the house and came rapidly down the path toward 
her. Jean drew back under the shadow of the 
(28) 


SILVESTER. 


29 


lilacs ; when he had passed her, she clenched her 
hands until the nails pierced the flesh. 

Here again ! and to no purpose,” she muttered 
through her closed teeth, as she crossed the lawn 
to the side entrance, where the mother awaited her 
in the family sitting-room. 

‘‘Where hast thou delayed so long, Jean? ” said 
her mother in an irritated tone of voice ; “ Silvester 
hath been here to see thee, and he waited long.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

There was a world of sarcasm in that one word ; 
it was Jean’s only reply. She knew too well the 
object of Silvester’s visit, and did not care to discuss 
it with her mother. 

Silvester was Neighbor Allen’s only child, and 
it had been the desire of his own parents and Jean’s 
mother to unite the interests of the two families by 
a marriage between Jean and Silvester. Farmer 
Andrews disliked the Allens ; but he was not averse 
to joining the two farms and thus to form — “ The 
largest and finest piece of farming land in the 
country.” 

As for Jean, she detested the Allen family as she 
did their religion. Silvester’s admiration for her- 
self and his avowed willingness to acquiesce in his 
father’s ambitions projects had rendered him espe- 
cially displeasing to her, and now that he was 


30 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

likely to interfere with her school plans his pres- 
ence had grown intolerable. 

Regarding Jean’s silence as favorable, her mother 
enlarged upon Silvester’s many good qualities and 
predicted for him^ a prosperous future. The girl 
performed her duties quickly, and then at last, when 
her mother rested, she crept softly up the stairs to 
her own little room. 

I will go. I must get away from this ! ” she 
cried defiantly, after she had carefully closed the 
door. 

Jean’s mind was too much disturbed to read or 
sew ; nor could she take up the dainty lace which 
she had been making to wear at the neck of her 
blue henrietta. She had finished the dress long since, 
but had never worn it ; it was to be her best gown 
at school. 

She knelt in the moonlight by the open window, 
and leaned her head against the sill and gazed out 
upon the night. The monotonous croak of the 
frogs soothed her, and gradually her eyelids drooped 
and she was fast asleep. 

Jack had thrown himself upon the grass under 
the cheery tree, and, with hands clasped under his 
head, was trying to solve the problem of Jean’s 
education. No definite plan for action suggested 


SILVESTER. 


31 


itself. He was ready to take a decisive step in the 
matter. He felt deeply that Jean had been wronged, 
and from henceforth he must undo the wrong. No 
one was to blame ; so gradually had they become 
accustomed to her bearing the whole burden that 
it w'ould even seem strange to have her relieved. 

The sound of approaching footsteps caused Jack 
to roll over further into the shadow of the tree ; lie 
was not in a social mood and did not care to be 
recognized. When Silvester’s tall figure was clearly 
outlined in the moonlight, he could not repress a low 
whistle of surprise. 

‘‘Jean’s caldron is bubbling!” exclaimed Jack, 
after Silvester had disappeared at the turn in the 
lane ; and then he lay quietly watching the moon as 
it rose higher in the summer sky. The beauty of the 
night did not impress him ; he was too thought- 
fully intent upon Jean’s difficulty. Suddenly sitting 
erect, he exclaimed : 

“ I wonder ! ” the remainder of the sentence 

was lost in thought. Then he leaped to his feet and 
fairly danced with boyish glee. 

“ I have it ! I have it 1 ” cried Jack, and he started 
off at once to confer with Dick. 

Dick had fitted up an empty granary for his 
study, and there he was pouring over his Virgil, 
preparatory to the college entrance examinations. 


32 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


Jack saw the faint gleam of light through the 
chinks in the wall, and turned his steps toward the 
barn. He did not wait to give the customary tap, 
but rushed in at once. 

“ Oh, Dick ! I do believe that I have thought of 
a scheme for Jean.” 

“ What is it ? ” asked Dick. 

“ I may as well tell you, since it is too late to 
take any action to-night,” said Jack, looking at his 
watch. 

“ Well, out with it,” said Dick, as he pushed his 
lexicon to the further side of the store-box, which 
served as a study table. “ Judging from your man- 
ner, it must be interesting.” 

The two brothers talked long and earnestly. It 
was evident that Jack’s plan, while serious enough 
to engage their attention for one whole hour, was 
of a mirth-provoking nature. 

‘‘Oh, Jack! that is almost too good to keep,” 
laughed Dick. “We cannot tell Jean, or it would 
all fall through.” 

Dick closed his books and arranged the crude 
study, and then the two brothers passed out into 
the moonlight. 


CHAPTER IV. 


RKV. SIMONS. 

“ *Tis not a case of small import, 

The pastor’s care demands ; 

But what might fill an angel’s heart, 

And filled a Saviour’s hands.” 

— Doddridge. 

Rev. Simons was a young man of no mean pre- 
tentions intellectually. He had received a college 
training prior to his theological course, and, thor- 
oughly awake to the responsibilities of his calling, 
he continued to labor hard in his little study. He 
believed that Providence had directed him to this 
fertile valley, where he endeavored to unfold the 
simple Gospel truths, to the best of his ability. 

He had had occasion to address the union meet- 
ings in the village, and there he had met Jean. 
Several times in the course of the winter he had 
found it necessary to drive over to the farm-house to 
consult her about the hymns or to arrange for some 
special service. Upon two occasions, when the 
interviews had been somewhat prolonged, the kind- 
3 (33) 


34 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


hearted farmer had urged him to take tea with the 
family. 

The young minister was not slow to accept the 
proffered hospitality. Rev. Simons loved the mem- 
bers of his flock, and his soul was often poured out. 
in prayer for those outside the fold. Notwithstand- 
ing all sincerity of purpose, he had ofttimes had a 
feeling of loneliness in his rural charge, and had 
longed for more congenial companionship. In 
Farmer Andrews’ family he found much of what 
he had missed heretofore. With the farmer he dis- 
cussed some theological points in a most amiable 
spirit, and was surprised to find him so conversant 
with the different doctrines ; with Dick he planned 
his studies and assisted him in his preparation for 
college. The two younger boys, Rob and Freddie, 
listened eagerly to the tales of Grecian mythology, 
or the historic events the minister related to them. 
Jean talked with delight about the books which he 
had loaned her, or most gratefully received instruc- 
tion in regard to the new voluntary for the Sunday- 
evening service. 

Rev. Simons’ visits were welcomed by all save 
the mother ; to her they were the cause of much 
anxiety. She attributed Jean’s growing dislike 
for Silvester to his attentions. Neighbor Allen 
highly disapproved of the minister’s interest 


REV. SIMONS. 


35 


in Jean, and, seeing his horse hitched to Farmer 
Andrews’ block, would shake his head and say, 
“ Too bad — too bad ! ” 

He feared that Jean had grown very worldly, and 
that after all Sadie Smith might direct the affairs 
of Silvester’s household better than she. There 
was, however, one thing greatly in Jean’s favor — 
she could command a dowry, which could never 
fall to Sadie Smith’s lot, and that fact was not to be 
ignored when Silvester’s future was under consid- 
eration. 

The possible loss of Jean’s money caused Neigh- 
bor Allen to take a decisive step ; he determined to 
bring matters to a crisis, and end the parson’s in- 
fluence over Farmer Andrews’ home by having a 
talk with the mother, whom he thought he could 
readily bring to see his side of the subject. 

Unfortunately, Neighbor Allen arrived at this 
decision at a time when the hymns had been laid 
aside and the little party in the parlor were practic- 
ing college songs with the minister. 

Jean’s clear soprano rang out gaily in : 

“ B — i — n — g — o 
B — i — n — g — o 

B— i— n— g 

Oh, Bingo was his name,” 

just as Neighbor Allen came up the path, all intent 


36 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

Upon his mission. The old man paused for a mo- 
ment to listen, a look of astonishment upon his face, 
which was almost comical in its seriousness. 

They ground him up into sausage meat, 

And Bingo was his name,” 

sang the choir. 

‘‘ Wh — wh — a — t ! ” gasped the listener. “ Them 
must be them new hymns Silvester was tellin’ 
about,” and a wave of righteous indignation swept 
Neighbor Allen’s soul. 

“ Such stuff ; and they call ’em hymns.” With- 
out one word he stalked into the family sitting- 
room, where he found Mother Andrews alone, 
musing in the twilight. 

He was not slow to express his feelings ; they 
had sown to the wind and were reaping the whirl- 
wind ; they had thrown temptations into Jean’s v/ay 
when they purchased the organ ; they had allowed 
her to attend the meetings at the school-house, and 
to take part. The mother listened with a feeling 
of helplessness. It was all true — too true ; she had 
opposed Jean’s attendance at the meetings, but had 
not been firm enough ; she had yielded, and Jean 
had been carried away. 

The mother paused in her painful confession, in 
response to a gesture from her hearer. 


REV. SIMONS. 


37 


“ Forty-eight blue-bottles hang on the garden wall,” 

sang the little parlor choir. In blank amazement 
Neighbor Allen listened nntil there were but thirty- 
seven bottles left, and, feeling that to hear more 
would be sacrilegious, he took his hat and walked 
out of the house and down the lane. 

Mother Andrews felt deeply humiliated to have 
Brother Allen witness how utterly she had failed to 
guide her little household in the narrow way. She 
feared also her ability to rectify her mistake, and 
that she could never again bring Jean and her 
brothers back to the true faith. 

The poor mother was working out her salvation 
with fear and trembling. Self-imposed duties and 
unnecessary self-denials had taken much of the 
pleasure out of her dreary life, and she had even at 
times regarded her physical sufferings as a means of 
grace — bringing her a little further in the narrow 
way. As a self-disciplinarian and a cross-bearing 
Christian, Mother Andrews had perhaps succeeded ; 
but the joy of the service of love springing from the 
natural impulses of the heart she had never known. 

As she sat alone in the darkness after Neighbor 
Allen’s visit, she wept bitter tears because her hard 
religion failed to appeal to her children ; she cen- 
sured herself severely because she had been so 
lenient. Her own rigid childhood rose before her 


38 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

in sharp contrast with what she had allowed her 
own offspring. 

The parlor door was thrown open and the min- 
ister, surrounded by the merry group, came to say 
‘‘ good-night.” 

“ I am afraid we have kept you waiting,” said the 
young man. 

‘‘ I am very tired,” coldly replied the mother, and 
then, turning to Jean, who was shading the lamp 
which she held in her hand so that the bright light 
would not fall upon the invalid, she said : 

“ The children should have been a-bed an hour 
ago.” 

Rev. Simons took his rebuke mildly and went 
away, inwardly chiding himself for having kept Jean 
so long. He pitied the girl in the lonely life she 
led ; it was such a pleasure to gratify her taste for 
music, and to tell her about the outside world, of 
which she knew so little in reality. He had also 
enjoyed her candid criticism of his sermons, and had 
profited not a little thereby. He had hoped at some 
time to be able to bring to the young girl the sweet 
Gospel truths which he so dearly loved. Wisely, 
thus far, he had refrained from touching upon the 
subject in conversation with Jean. He knew how 
the girl, naturally so generous in all other respects, 
had hardened herself against everything of a relig- 


REV. SIMONS. 


39 


ious nature. He had succeeded in winning her 
confidence, and she regarded him as her friend ; so 
far he had been successful. She had even taken up 
some phases of church work ; but the minister real- 
ized that Jean was showing kindness only to him- 
self, and was not doing it as a service to the Master. 

He longed to bring to the poor suffering mother 
the peace of God’s love in exchange for her exact- 
ing obedience to a stern father. Her grief and evi- 
dent displeasure at his visit did not escape him, and 
he resolved to forego the pleasure of his evenings at 
the farm-house rather than to add to the troubles of 
the already unhappy home. 


CHAPTER V. 


jack’s pi. an. 

‘‘We should do by our cunning as we do by our courage — 
always have it ready to defend ourselves ; never to offend 
others. * ’ — Colton. 

Rev. Simons had been hard at work in his study 
one sultry July morning, and the Sunday sermon 
lay finished upon his table, when he saw Dick 
Andrews tie his pony outside the gate, and leisurely 
come up the flower-bordered walk. 

“ Good-morning, Dick. What good fortune brings 
you hither so early? I have long wished to see 
you,” said the minister, as he met his young friend, 
with extended hand. 

“We missed you at the farm. I had to do an 
errand for father over this way, and thought I would 
drop in to see what was wrong. Jack has been 
home these six weeks, and you have not seen him. 
We would like to have you bring Miss Mabel over 
to take tea with us and spend the evening ; Jack is 
anxious to meet you,” replied Dick. 

The minister was most grateful for the oppor- 

(40) 


jack’s plan. 41 

tunity which Dick’s invitation afforded to renew his 
visits at the farm. 

“I think Jack would enjoy your violin. He 
plays accompaniments skillfully,” continued Dick, 
knowing that a hint would be sufficient to bring 
the instrument. 

Late in the afternoon Jean had wheeled her 
mother’s chair out upon the piazza, where she could 
enjoy the cool shade while she read aloud to her a 
letter from Aunt Jo. 

“ She will be here in August to stay all winter,” 
said the girl wistfully, when she had finished 
reading. 

“Wilt thou get me a shawl ? ” was the mother’s 
only reply. 

Jean went for the desired garment, and was 
arranging it about the invalid’s shoulders, when 
Rev. Simons’ sudden appearance surprised both 
mother and daughter. Neither had seen him ride 
up and dismount. 

“ Mabel had an engagement for this evening. I 
decided, however, to come alone. I could not dis- 
appoint Dick, as well as myself.” 

Jean wondered at the minister’s remark, though 
she expressed no surprise ; she felt somewhat an- 
noyed by his presence, for she had decided to talk 
over her school plans with her mother, and Aunt 


42 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


Jo’s letter had just opened the way. She felt re- 
lieved to see Jack come up the path leading to 
the garden, where he had been working with his 
father. 

“ You have never met Brother Jack, Mr. Simons,” 
said Jean, proudly, as she presented her favorite 
brother. 

‘‘We scarce need an introduction, Jean. We are 
by no means strangers,” said Jack, as he greeted the 
visitor. 

Jack’s manner was unusually affable, and the two 
were soon busily conversing. From the common- 
place subjects of every-day life they drifted into 
channels of thought which were quite beyond 
Jean’s comprehension, but to the preacher they were 
the expressions of a companionable mind. To be 
able to utter freely the things which heretofore he 
had carefully excluded from his sermons, lest they 
should become unintelligible to his hearers, was 
as refreshing to this lone missionary as is the 
sight of the oasis to the weary traveler in the great 
Sahara. 

Katherine came to announce that tea was ready, 
but discreetly withdrew to lay an extra plate, and 
Rev. Simons never knew that his visit was a sur- 
prise to all save Dick and Jack. 

The evening passed most pleasantly. Jack found 


jack’s plan. 


43 


his guest quite as skillful a musician as he had 
proven himself to be a conversationalist. Even 
Mother Andrews seemed to forget that Neighbor 
Allen had called the violin The invention of the 
evil one,” as she listened to the sweet strains. It 
was already late when the minister took leave of the 
family. Jack followed him to the gate and arranged 
to have him drop in frequently, in order that they 
might practice their music together. 

A fortnight later Dick announced the fact that 
he had planned a picnic party. 

“ Jack’s vacation has been altogether too tame,” 
said Dick. ‘‘We must give him a royal send off. 
He will go back to the office in two weeks.” 

“ Only two weeks left ! ” exclaimed Jean. “ He 
has not been able to approach father yet in my 
behalf.” 

“ Never mind, Dottie Dimple ; you are coming 
out all right — heigho ! ” and Dick tossed his hat 
high into the air, and ran to catch it in order to con- 
ceal his mirth. He chuckled to himself in a man- 
ner that annoyed his sister exceedingly. It was not 
at all like Dick to make fun of her. She thought 
that he had recognized the hopelessness of her con- 
dition and was making light of it. 

The morning for the picnic soon arrived. Jean 
looked very pretty, and almost happy, in her pink 


44 


THE WILL AND THE WAY. 


cambric dress, with her white chip hat tied under 
her chin, as she entered the kitchen for the last 
time, to charge Katherine to take good care of her 
mother, and then went to make sure that nothing 
had been left undone which could in any way add 
to the invalid’s comfort during her absence. 

Dick was in the kitchen also, and, had Jean ob- 
served closely, she could have told by the twinkle 
in his eyes, and his silence at her approach, that he 
was bent upon mischief. 

“Ain’t she stunning?” said Dick, as Jean passed 
out of hearing. 

“ I wouldn’t be surprised if our Jeanie would 
grace the dominie’s parsonage after all. He’s going 
to take her to the picnic to-day. Well, he’s all 
right, if he is a preacher.” 

Katherine’s eyes grew large and round. Such a 
thing as Jean’s leaving the home nest had never oc- 
curred to her ; she recalled the minister’s frequent 
visits of late, and the fact that Jean seemed to enjoy 
them. 

Dick wisely withdrew before Katherine could 
recover from her surprise, and hastened to perform 
another part of what was to him rather an agree- 
able task. 

He found Jean in the garden gathering some late 
roses for the mother’s room. 


jack’s plan. 


45 


“ Jack says we cannot drive to the picnic. The 
horses cannot be spared from the fields to-day, and 
father needs Topsy. Jack and I will take the colts 
and go horseback, and you can ride with the min- 
ister and Miss Mabel,” said subtle Dick. 

Jean would have much preferred to go with her 
brothers ; she knew, however, that the men were 
unusually busy with the early harvest, and thought 
that after all it could make but little difference. 

Dick’s task was not yet done ; passing into the 
sitting-room, he said : 

‘‘ Mother, it is a lovely morning ; let me wheel 
you tc the side-porch before we start, so that you 
can see us off. I will put the call-bell near you, 
and you can ring for Katherine when you wish to 
go in.” 

The mother, happy to receive attention from her 
manly sons, readily acquiesced. 

‘‘ Now,” said Dick, as he rushed off to don his 
riding boots and whip, “everything is fixed; if 
only old Allen would happen in yet at the right 
time, the plan would be perfect.” 

Jean was standing by her mother’s chair when 
Dick came and hurried her down to the gate, where 
Jack was awaiting them. Rev. Simons had driven 
up in a light wagon. Miss Mabel and a friend from 
the city occupied the back seat. 


46 


THE WIEL AND THE WAY. 


“Yes, certainly,” said the minister in reply to a 
question from Jack, and he proceeded to make room 
for Jean on the seat beside him. 

Katherine appeared with hampers, blankets, and 
hammocks, which were stored away, and then Jack 
swung Jean into her place. 

“ Good-bye, mother,” called the merry party, as 
they rode off, with Jack and Dick mounted upon 
the frisky colts, bringing up the rear. 

Katherine could not forget Dick’s remark about 
Jean and the minister ; it had been uppermost in 
her mind ever since he had uttered it, and that was 
what Dick had wanted. 

The picnic party had not yet reached the end of 
the lane, when she had repeated it to the anxious 
mother. 

“To think of our little Jean ever setting her 
heart on the preacher ! ” exclaimed good old 
Katherine. 

“ Didst thou say Dick told thee so ? ” inquired 
the mother. 

“Yes. We have been blind or we would have 
seen it ourselves — now that I think of it. Our Jean, 
who has always had a plenty of everything, want- 
ing to marry a preacher, who has no home of 
his own and less than four hundred a year ! ” 
and Katherine, too indignant to wait to hear the 


jack’s PI.AN. 


47 


mother’s views, hastened into the kitchen to finish 
the morning’s work, which had been delayed by her 
kindly aid to the picnic party. She gave vent to 
her feelings by clattering and banging the dishes 
and pans in a manner quite unusual. 

The mother was no less disturbed by Katherine’s 
revelations. Unlike Katherine, however, the 
thought of Jean’s leaving the home nest was not 
so new to her. She had thought of it many times, 
but she had planned differently. Mother Andrews 
planned still more. Jean could never be reconciled 
to Silvester’s wooing so long as she could be in- 
fluenced by the preacher, who no doubt wanted to 
piece out his slender salary by the income from 
Jean’s broad acres. Jean would have to be sent 
away for a time. The home of Mother Andrews’ 
childhood was too far away, she could not let her 
go there. Then a new thought electrified her — if 
Jean were to go to school her mind would be wholly 
occupied with her studies, and gradually she would 
forget the objectionable friendship. 

That long afternoon the invalid spent in trying 
to convince the farmer that it would be well to let 
Jean go with Jack. Unconsciously she had used 
Jack’s own words ; she had been confined too 
closely at home ; Josephine was coming to stay with 
them ; the school was so near that they could have 


48 THE WILE AND THE WAY. 

her home frequently. That part of the argument 
had little weight with Farmer Andrews, but when 
she began to paint Jean’s future in a little par- 
sonage, trying to live off of a salary less than his tax 
roll amounted to, and with but little prospect for 
more, the farmer relented. 

“Yes, we might let her go for one winter. She 
would enjoy it, and we have been rather hard on 
Jeanie,” he said. 

In the woods the picnic party had swung the 
hammocks under the large trees near the mill pond. 
Jack had kindled a fire, and the odor of coffee was 
most refreshing in the cool, shady depths of the oak 
forest. 

Dick was caring for the horses some distance 
from the camp. Rev. Simons and Mildred Hazle- 
ton — the friend from the city — were clearing a 
space for the croquet wickets, when Jean and Mabel 
called them to dinner. They had spread the 
cloth upon a grassy plot underneath a swaying 
grape-vine. It was a merry, heart-free company 
that responded to the call. Jack and Dick felt no 
twinges of conscience because of their purpose in 
forming the party. 

The afternoon was happily spent in games, con- 
versation, and gathering the wild flowers which 
grew in profusion near the water’s edge. It was 


jack’s plan. 


49 


growing late when Jack lighted the camp-fires. 
Jean’s protests were in vain. 

“We do not have such times often,” declared 
Dick, conscious of the silent approval of the others. 

The sun had disappeared behind the brow of the 
hill, leaving only a faint glow to mark his path, 
and the little stars were already twinkling when 
the noisy picnickers halted at the farm-house gate. 

An anxious trio awaited their return. Neigh- 
bor Allen, unobserved, had seen them drive away 
in the morning, and, anxious to learn what was 
taking place, had sent Silvester to talk with the 
mother after the day’s work had been finished. 

To Jean the day had been filled with anxiety for 
her mother ; she had been impatient with Jack for 
having detained them so long ; she had expected, 
however, that Katherine would help the invalid to 
bed, and was much surprised to find the group watch- 
ing for them. 

“ Mother, I am sorry we have kept you waiting ; 
shall I help you to your room ? ” asked Jean at 
once. 

“No, Jean, not yet,” said her father. “ Mother 
and I want to talk your school plans over a little 
later. Go now and tell Katherine to give you some- 
thing warm, and then come back.” 

The girl was too much astonished by what she 

4 


50 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


had heard to move ; with wide-open eyes she mutely 
regarded her parents with amazement. 

Silvester awkwardly twirled his fingers, but Jean 
was unconscious of his presence. When she finally 
found the strength to do as her father had com- 
manded, she returned to find Silvester gone, and 
Jack in his place talking to her parents. 

“ Why, of course, father, I will take care of her^ 
and bring her back to you stronger and in every 
way improved,” he was saying. “Jean has never 
been across the county line, and is almost eighteen. 
I knew you would come to it when you could once 
see it in that light.” 

“ Come, Jeanie,” said her father, “ you are to go 
to school with Jack. Mother and I have talked it 
all over. You won’t get so stylish while you are 
gone as to forget the old folks, will you ? ” 

Jean’s answer was to fling her arms about her 
father’s neck and burst into tears. 

Outside Dick was rolling over and over in the 
grass, with his handkerchief over his mouth to keep 
back the guffaws. He had heard enough to know" 
that Jack’s plan had worked. 


CHAPTER VL 


THE INTERVAL. 

“But who can give, or bless, 

Or take a blessing, but there conies with all 
Some pain? ” 

— Ingelow, 

Dick’s part in the scheme for getting his parents’ 
consent to Jean’s plans was not so artful as might 
at first appear. He truly believed that eventually 
Jean would be established in the little parsonage, 
and for his part he much preferred even that to his 
mother’s plans for his sister’s future. He believed 
that his parents were blind to Jean’s possibilities, 
and he had resolved that she should first be given 
an opportunity of gratifying her desire for an edu- 
cation. 

Jack and Dick had decided upon the picnic party 
as the best means at their command to bring about 
the desired end. They resolved to bring to the 
consciousness of both parents what they honestly 
believed was the parson’s admiration for Jean, and 
they were surprised and overjoyed to find that their 
project had so quickly proven effectual. 

(51) 


52 


THE WILE and the WAY. 


Rev. Simons had always been very kind to Jean, 
and had given her many happy hours. He had 
undoubtedly caused her to become more and more 
dissatisfied with her condition, and, unconsciously, 
had intensified her desire for an education. He had 
also set at rest her scruples where duty to parents 
and duty to self seemed to conflict, by assuring her 
that her mother’s vitality and constitution were 
such that she might be spared to them yet many 
years, and that, after she had gained the knowledge 
for which she craved, she could return to brighten 
the home and to care for her parents in their old 
age, even better than she could in her present dis- 
satisfied state of mind. For all this kindly interest 
in her behalf Jean was truly grateful, and had 
learned to regard the pastor as her friend and to like 
him personally very much ; but she was not given 
to day dreaming, and not likely to lose her heart 
easily. Dick’s fears were ungrounded. 

Rev. Simons rejoiced in Jean’s good fortune, and 
trusted in Him who doeth all things well for the 
good which might result from it. 

Jean’s happiness in the realization of her long- 
cherished hope was mingled with bitter regret at 
the thought of separation from those whom she 
loved. Home and its surroundings became dearer 
than ever before. She visited every nook and cor- 


THE INTERVAL. 


53 


ner many times. Her flowers and pet chickens 
were turned over to Katherine with oft-repeated 
admonitions as to their care. She no longer thought 
of her own wardrobe or preparation for school in 
her anxiety for her mother’s comfort while she 
would be away. 

Jack returned to the office work at the college 
before the vacation had ended. Farmer Andrews 
had decided to let Dick go with Jean at the opening 
of school. The light in the granary burned later 
than before, and the family saw but little of the 
hard-working student. Rev. Simons continued his 
visits, but spent most of his time with Dick in his 
study. 

It was the last Sunday evening in August ; Dick 
and Jean were to start for school the week following. 
The family was gathered on the side-porch in the 
twilight. Aunt Jo was there ready to take Jean’s 
place. Dick was talking busily to Fred and Rob, 
while Jean leaned over her father’s chair and 
smoothed his gray hairs with the palms of her 
hands, in a way that he liked. 

An unusual silence settled over the group, un- 
broken save by Robert's play with Jean’s kitten 
and the chirp of the crickets in the grass. 

Robbie stopped long enough to remark : 

“ Your last day at home, sis.” 


54 I'HE WILE AND THE WAY. 

“ Oh ! ” said Jean, ‘‘ I try not to think of it.” 

“ One would think you were going much against 
your will,” testily remarked Dick. 

‘‘ So I am,” replied Jean. “ I want to go and I 
want to stay at home.” 

“ No, no, Jeanie,” said her father, “ you must not 
feel that way. At first I did not want you to go 
either — now I like the idea. A term at school, 
away from home, will do you good, and we will 
know better how to appreciate you when you come 
back. I never realized how closely we had confined 
you until Jack made it so plain to me. Only do 
not get spoiled — come back to us the same good 
little girl that you have always been.” 

Jean was crying softly behind her father’s chair. 

“You and Jack must look after Dick and keep 
him out of mischief,” continued the farmer. 

“ I think an algebra or a Latin text will easily do 
that,” remarked Aunt Jo. 

“ Dick goes at his books just like he used to take 
his row of corn ; he always kept ahead of the rest, 
but that did not prevent his pelting the hindmost 
with nubbins,” laughed the farmer. 

Dick sat strangely quiet. He had begun to feel 
for the first time the pain of separation. It had 
never occurred to him that starting to school could 
afford aught save pleasure. 


THK INTERVAI.. 


55 


Jean left her place near her father’s chair and 
seated herself upon a low stool near her mother and 
took her mother’s hand and gently pressed it to her 
cheek. 

The unbroken silence became oppressive to the 
farmer. 

‘‘After all, Jeanie,” he said, “ I do not know but 
that I will be sorry that I let you go before my 
winter socks were ready. Not even mother, when 
she was well, could turn such comfortable heels.” 

Jean smiled, for she remembered a large ball of 
soft gray yarn in the bottom of her trunk. 

The gate-latch clicked and Rev. Simons came 
rapidly up the path. 

“Good-evening to all. You look so contented 
here that I hesitate to make my errand known, 
especially since it is your last evening together for 
some time,” and, turning to Jean, he said : 

“ Miss Andrews, we are in a dilemma. A song 
service has been announced for this evening, and 
our organist, unfortunately, is ill ; my sister is in 
the city. Will you kindly come to our assistance 
for an hour or more? ” 

Had Jean followed her own inclinations, she 
would have said no. She was too unselfish to refuse 
a kindness, and, taking up her hat from the rack 
just inside the door, she said : 


56 


THE WILE and the WAY. 


“ I suppose there is no time to be lost ? ” 

‘‘No. The audience was gathering when I 
learned the situation. I will not keep your daugh- 
ter long,” said the young minister, pleasantly, as he 
bowed his good-night to the family. 

If either Farmer or Mother Andrews had regretted 
their decision in regard to Jean’s education before, 
they both became reconciled, and were even glad 
that her stay at home would be so short, when they 
saw their daughter and the parson disappear in the 
twilight. 


CHAPTER VIL 


jean’s first day at school. 

“ Oh ! the joy 

Of young ideas painted on the mind, 

In the warm, glowing colors fancy spreads 
On subjects not yet known, when all is new 
And all is lovely.” 

— Hannah More, 

Jean arose with the first rays of the morning’s sun 
on the day of her departure. It was with a sorrow- 
ful heart that she performed her labors of love for 
the last time before surrendering her place to her 
Aunt Jo. She filled the vases with fresh flowers, 
and then went into her mother’s room. The in- 
valid awaited her, though the hour was unusually 
early. 

Jean carefully robed her mother in the soft gray 
morning dress and smoothly brushed the long sil- 
very hair. 

‘‘You will have father send for me at once, 
mother, if you should need me? ” asked the girl. 

“ That I will, Jean,” said the mother. “ Now that 
thou hast decided to go, and father and I have said 

(57) 


58 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

yea to it, do not worry longer, child. Thou hast 
never been away before, and to thee it seems a great 
thing. We will sorely miss thee, Jean, but we 
can bear it for thy sake. Thou wilt write each 
week ? ” 

“You shall have two letters each week, mother ; 
good, long ones, to make up for Jack’s short ones,” 
enthusiastically replied Jean. 

The breakfast was over and the farmer’s trap, 
with Topsy, was waiting at the gate. Dick had 
already gone ahead with Jacob and the trunks. 

Jean took a last good-bye look through the 
house, then, kissing her mother once more, ran 
down the path. Only Tion saw the tears which 
rained from her eyes, as she stopped to pet him on 
the head, under the lilacs. 

Jean watched the home, as she drove away with 
her father, until the tallest walnut tree had disap- 
peared from sight behind the hill. 

“ Leave your mother in the hands of the Father, 
who doeth all things well,” Rev. Simons had said 
to her the evening before. Jean recalled the words 
as she rode at her father’s side, and, though she had 
not learned to know that heavenly Father herself, 
it was comforting to feel that there was a higher 
power which would protect her mother during her 
own absence. 


jean’s first day at school. 


59 


She could not long remain depressed. The ride 
in the fresh morning air revived her drooping 
spirits. She resolved to come back very soon to 
make sure that Aunt Jo could take all necessary 
care of her mother, and then she was almost happy. 

Farmer Andrews and his wife had implicit con- 
fidence in Jack, and he had assured them that he 
would care for Jean and Dick ; it was without anx- 
iety that they saw their nestlings go out from the 
shelter of home to gain the preparation for life 
which they demanded. There was none of that 
gloomy foreboding with which so many fond parents 
follow their children to the very entrance to college, 
yearning for every good, but fearing every possible 
evil for their loved ones. 

Could careless students know how their presence 
is missed in the home circle, and how much of 
pride and hope there is cherished for their future in 
those loving hearts, there would be fewer disap- 
pointments. 

Jean and Dick sat in the waiting-room of the 
large depot while their father arranged for their 
tickets. To Jean everything was new ; she trem- 
bled with fear and joy as the great engine thun- 
dered past. The father hurried them on to the 
train, and took his leave. Jean had often wondered 
what it would be like to ride inside the cars, when 


6o 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


she had seen the fast express glide over the fields in 
the distance. The train moved slowly at first ; 
she thought the people on the platform were mov- 
ing ; the depot itself ; but that could not be ; they 
were actually going themselves. Her delight was 
unbounded as they sped on through the town and 
out through the open country. She wished that 
she were all alone with Dick, so that she could give 
expression to her feelings. She was strangely con- 
scious that it would be amusing to the other pas- 
sengers to know that this was her first car ride, and 
she was so demure and quiet that no one could have 
guessed that she had not traveled all her life. 

Jean saw a man put his parcels into the rack 
above, and, thinking that the proper disposal to 
make of them, unfortunately asked Dick to do the 
same. Dick, awakened from the reverie into which 
he had fallen, happened to remember that this was 
Jean’s first experience on the train, and annoyed 
her not a little by asking her how she liked it. 
Jean glanced about the car quickly to see whether 
anyone had heard Dick’s injudicious remark. The 
man across the aisle was buried in his newspaper, 
and the seat back of them was vacant. She ven- 
tured to reply : 

“It is just a little like the ‘ merry-go-roiind ’ at 
the fair, only it is nicer. Do not say any more 


JEAN’S EIRST DAY AT SCHOOE. 6l 

about it, or folks will laugh at me,” she added in a 
low tone. 

Dick had been over the road several times and 
began to point out places of interest. The re- 
mainder of the forenoon had passed ere they were 
aware of it. When the other passengers took down 
their lunch baskets, Jean and Dick did the same, 
but, before they had time to do justice to the deli- 
cacies which Katherine had prepared for them, Dick 
exclaimed : 

‘‘ There it is ! ” 

“ Wliat ? ” asked Jean. 

^‘Why, the college, of course.” 

The train had emerged from a dense grove into 
the open prairie. A town was visible in the dis- 
tance. One large stone building towered above the 
others. Jean thought she had never seen so large 
a building with so many windows. 

The train halted at a crossing and a number of 
students got on. Dick was busy getting the lug- 
gage together ; the conductor called out, Milton ! ” 
and Jean knew that they were at their journey’s 
end. 

The bustle and confusion bewildered her. Every- 
body seemed to be leaving save the man with the 
newspaper ; he was reading calmly, as if the sight 
of students and college buildings were nothing 


62 


THE WIEE and the WAY. 


unusual. Jean felt sorry for him, and wondered 
whether he would have to go on all alone. 

“ Come, Jean ; we are here.” 

It was Jack’s cheery voice that greeted her ; he 
had come to meet them and to take them up to the 
rooms which he had selected for them. 

When Jack was observed by the crowd of stu- 
dents he was heartily welcomed by everyone, and 
the hearty hand-shakings which followed were an 
evidence of his popularity. 

Jean stood alone while Jack and Dick went to see 
about the trunks. Two richly-dressed young girls 
stood near her. 

‘‘Jack Andrews’ sister, did you say?” 

“Yes. I know I shall like her ; she has such a 
good face.” 

“ But so horribly plain.” 

“ Nonsense, Grace. She is as neat as a pin, and 
you know they live in the country.” 

Jean dared not look up until Jack stood by her 
side. She learned that the young ladies were Miss 
Seymore and Miss Derwood. 

Miss Derwood was nearly Jean’s age, with blue 
eyes and light, fluffy hair ; she was somewhat over- 
dressed, according to Jean’s critical judgment, but 
so good-natured that she decided, mentally, that 
she would like her better than the haughty Miss 


jean’s first day at schooe. 63 

Seymorej with her flashing black eyes and stylish 
costume. Miss Seymore had called Jean plain one 
moment before, but now that Jack stood at his 
sister’s side, her manner became so gracious and 
cordial that Jean could scarce believe that she had 
heard aright. There were yet many things for Jean 
to learn from contact with the world. 

Jack hailed a cab and they were rapidly driven 
to the college grounds, where they found the secre- 
tary’s room full of students, new and old, waiting to 
register. Jack was constrained to give Jean a seat 
near his desk, while he attended to his duties. Dick 
strolled about the town and Jean waited patiently 
until Jack could be at liberty. She wondered 
how girls, with no brothers to arrange for them, 
could have enough courage to go to school alone. 

Jack had never appeared to better advantage in 
his sister’s eyes than he did that first afternoon 
while he assisted new students in the arrangement 
of their work ; or advised them as to the choice of 
a course of study ; or helped some student from 
another school to adjust his credits to the college 
curriculum, before presenting them to the faculty. 

There was much that she could not understand, 
but she listened attentively to everything and 
watched the ever-changing group about her broth- 
er’s desk. 


64 the wile and the way. 

It was already late in the afternoon when the 
dean of the college came in to render Jack assistance. 

“Now, Jean,” said Jack, “we must get you set- 
tled in your room ; it is later than I had imagined.” 

Jack turned toward the elderly gentleman, who 
had seated himself at the desk. 

“ Dr. Miller, this is my sister.” 

“Yes, I am anxious to meet her,” 

Jean’s hand was held in a strong, friendly grasp ; 
she ventured to look up into the kindly face of 
Jack’s special friend and adviser. She was much 
surprised to recognize the man who had had the 
newspaper on the train, 

“ We have met before, Jack. How did you enjoy 
the ride this morning ? ” 

Jean saw a merry twinkle in the kindly brown 
eyes behind the spectacles, and she knew at once 
that he had heard her conversation with Dick. The 
blood rushed to her face and left her so embarrassed 
that she could not reply. 

“ Never mind, little girl,” said the professor, 
laughing heartily, “I would that we older ones 
could see the world through your innocent eyes.” 

Jack looked from the dean to his sister, inquir- 
ingly. 

“ This has been Miss Jean’s first journey, and I 
was fortunate enough to enjoy it with her. Now 


jean’s first day at schooe. 65 

go with Jack and find your room/^ said Dr. Miller 
to Jean, ‘‘ I will see you again. Jack is a special 
pet of mine, and I hope to like you and Dick quite 
as well. I have a little girl of my own, near your 
age, and I want you to become good friends.” 

Jean wondered at the sad look and tone with 
which Dr. Miller mentioned his daughter. 

Jack took Jean with him to Fenwick Hall, where 
the girls of the preparatory department occupied 
the third and fourth floors. The first and second 
floors were reserved for the college girls and the 
preceptress’ parlors. The basement was used as a 
dining-room for all classes and departments. They 
entered the broad hallway, and turned into a wait- 
ing-room. Jack touched a button, and Jean heard 
a bell ring in the distance. A neat maid appeared 
with a little silver tray. 

‘‘ Lila, please ask Miss Meile to come down,” 
said Jack. 

The maid disappeared, and in a few moments a 
middle-aged woman entered the room. She had 
such a kind expression upon her sweet face that 
Jean felt at once that she could love her. 

“ Ah, Master Jack,” said Miss Meile, as she came 
forward to meet them, ‘‘ your sister has come, I see.” 
Then turning to Jean, “We know you already, my 
dear, Jack has told us all about you.” 

5 


66 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


“ I must leave Jean with you, Miss Meile ; we are 
overburdened with office work to-day,” said Jack. 

I understand. Is it room No. 36 ? ” asked Miss 
Meile. 

Yes, with Miss Howell,” replied Jack, and, bow- 
ing to Miss Meile, he threw a kiss to Jean and ran 
down the steps. 

“ Well, Jean, we will go to your room at once. You 
must be tired by this time,” said her new friend. 

At the top of the first flight of stairs. Miss Meile 
was detained, and, calling Lila, she bade her show’ 
the young lady to room No. 36. 

Lila led Jean to a door at the end of the long cor- 
ridor, and rapped. 

“ Come in,” cried a voice from within. 

‘‘ Miss Lottie, this is Miss Andrews, Jack An- 
drews’ sister ; I believe she is to room with you,” 
said the privileged maid, who was a favorite with 
all the girls. 

Jean was ushered into a large corner room. In 
one of the deep windows was perched a girl, older 
in years than herself. She wore her hair in short 
curls that seemed to tumble over each other in their 
profusion. 

She was busily crocheting some light-blue wor- 
sted, and only looked up from her work long 
enough to remark : 


jean’s first day at schooe. 67 

“ Your trunk has been here ever since noon,” and 
then, after turning a few difficult stitches, she con- 
tinued, ‘‘ I was almost startled when I read the name 
and address, for I thought Jack Andrews regarded 
me as a perfect harumscarum, and that I would be 
the last person whom he would choose as a com- 
panion for his sister.” 

Jean stood irresolutely near the door. 

“ Come,” cried the girl, as she leaped from her 
perch, and shook her curls in a manner quite be- 
wildering to Jean, “ don’t stand there. The room 
is yours as much as it is mine. It is almost tea- 
time, let me help you.” 

She pushed Jean into a low rocker, and took off 
the little plain hat and tossed it on to the bed. 

‘‘ I am very dusty, and would like to change my 
dress if there is time,” said Jean. 

“ Plenty of time, if you don’t primp too much,” 
replied Miss Harrington, standing by while Jean 
opened her trunk. 

Jean selected a neat brown dress, which her Aunt 
Jo had helped her make ; its only trimming was the 
dainty lace at neck and wrists ; her long hair she 
uncoiled and plaited it in two simple plaits and tied 
them with fresh blue ribbons. 

She was plain, but neat and girlish in her appear- 
ance, when ready to go with her room-mate, Lottie 


68 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


Harrington, down the stairs into the large dining- 
room, where they found Jack awaiting them. 

Where is Miss Howell? ” he asked of his sister. 

Over there,” answered Lottie for Jean, pointing 
across the room. 

A perplexed look came over Jack’s face. 

I beg pardon. Miss Harrington, will you tell me 
the number of your room?” asked Jack. 

No. 36.” 

And Miss Howell’s room ? ” 

No. 26,” promptly replied Lottie. 

Miss Meile approached them. 

“ I have arranged to have your sister sit at the 
table next to your own, Mister Jack. You can see 
her regularly at your meals in that way.” 

‘‘ You have been very kind and thoughtful,” 
gratefully responded Jack. 

“ Then here our ways do part,” said Lottie, as she 
surrendered Jean to her brother, and skipped across 
the room to her own chair. 

Miss Meile explained to Jean that the students 
were usually seated in classes, and each table was 
presided over by some member of the faculty or 
some other responsible person. Jack, in his capac- 
ity as secretary, had been placed in charge of a 
table of freshmen. 

Jean found herself seated with preparatory stu- 


jean’s first day at schooe. 69 

dents mostly. She had seen some of them in 
the office during the afternoon, and knew their 
rank. 

Miss Meile stopped long enough to introduce the 
strangers, and to admonish Miss McKenzie, the dig- 
nified lady at the head of the table, to look well to 
the needs of her charges, and then left them while 
she went to care for the welfare of others. 

The students on either side of Jean were, like her- 
self, new, and more inclined to observe than to 
converse. 

A young man, seated at Miss McKenzie’s left, 
engaged her attention for a considerable time by a 
recital of his grievances. He had, he said, com- 
pleted all but the senior work in the preparatory 
and had come with excellent recommendations from 
his former teachers. Notwithstanding, he was sub- 
jected to an examination, and relegated to the junior 
academic. 

‘‘As a rule, Mr. Dalton, you will find the faculty 
very fair, and I am sure that if you have been 
wronged, that there has been some mistake, and 
that you can have everything adjusted by interview- 
ing Dr. Miller,” said Miss McKenzie, with her 
pretty Scotch accent, and then, as if anxious to 
drop the subject, turned her attention to the young 
man seated at the foot of the table. 


70 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

‘‘ Have you succeeded in arranging your work, 
Mr. Malan ? ” she asked. 

“ Not yet. I am to take my examinations in the 
morning/’ replied the quiet young man who sat 
next to Jean. 

“Ah, then, we may lose you. That examination 
is for the freshmen.” 

Mr. Malan regarded Miss McKenzie with sur- 
prise. 

“ I see my remark requires an explanation. This 
is an academic table. Miss Brannon, here,” said 
Miss McKenzie, nodding to the tall blonde lady at 
her right, “ and I are privileged characters. We 
had permission to keep our younger sisters within 
bounds,” and she glanced toward the two girls 
seated next to Mr. Dalton. 

“Now,” said Miss McKenzie, in a manner en- 
tirely her own, after the simple evening meal had 
been finished, “ college dining-room tables form 
little social circles, which may prove to be very 
pleasant. Miss Brannon shares my responsibilities, 
and we hope to share your pleasures also, and at no 
time to be ruled out because of age or infirmities.” 

Miss McKenzie received the hearty assurance of 
loyalty to the head of the table on all possible occa- 
sions. When they arose in response to the little 
bell on Dr. Miller’s table the members of Miss Me- 


jean’s first day at schooe. 71 

Kenzie’s little circle felt that they had some inter- 
est in each other. 

Lottie met Jean at the door and quite took her 
breath away by waltzing her up the stairs and 
through the halls in a manner quite unusual to 
Jean’s dignity. 

When they reached their own room Lottie threw 
open the wardrobe door and bade Jean take posses- 
sion in the name of Andrews of one-half of all she 
surveyed. Jean could not repress a smile at the 
sight of Lottie’s gowns hanging to the hooks in 
every conceivable manner ; some dangling from the 
neck, others were hanging from some part of the 
skirt that chanced to catch upon the hooks ; one, 
more rebellious than the rest, was secured by a loop 
in the sleeve. On the floor underneath boots, slip- 
pers, rubbers, overshoes, and parcels were tumbled 
in the wildest confusion with boxes and cloth- 
ing. 

A chalk-line drawn exactly in the middle con- 
fined Lottie’s unmanageable belongings to their le- 
gitimate space. Jean began to unpack and unfold 
her ovm simple wardrobe. One by one she put the 
gowns in place, and then neatly arranged her boxes 
and parcels underneath. She turned toward a 
chest of drawers at the other end of the room. 

Yes, Miss Persimmons, one-half of that is yours 


72 


THE WILL AND THE WAY. 


also,” said Lottie, with a grimace, in answer to 
Jean’s questioning look. 

Jean’s lingerie was soon in place. “ I am sure 
that every ribbon and every handkerchief lie at 
exactly a right angle with its neighbor. My ! what 
a capital old maid you will be some day. Now see 
my things,” and Lottie drew out the upper drawer. 
Laces, veils, ribbons, and gloves were hopelessly 
mixed up with cuffs, collars, and handkerchiefs. 

Lottie was enjoying Jean’s look of displeasure 
when Lila’s tap on the door was immediately fol- 
lowed by Lila herself in quest of Jean. 

Jack v/as waiting for her in Miss Meile’s parlor. 
Jean followed the little maid into a large and com- 
fortably furnished room at the further end of the 
building. 

That part of Fenwick Hall seemed more like a 
private residence, and was separated from the apart- 
ments occupied by the young ladies by a v/ide hall 
and the winding stairs which reached from the 
dining-room to the attic. On the first floor were the 
waiting-room, where Jean had met Miss Meile, and 
the private rooms of the matron in charge of the 
basement. The second floor was the abode of the 
gentle preceptress and her maid. 

The large parlor was the scene of many happy 
gatherings ; in the sitting-room beyond homesick 


jean’s first day at schooe. 73 

and overworked girls received such sympathy or 
advice as the case demanded, while sharing some 
dainty prepared at the fireside ; beyond the sitting- 
room and next to Miss Meile’s own room was the 
hospital. Two little white beds and a low rocker 
were its only furniture. Sick girls were nursed 
back to health and strength by loving hands in the 
quiet of that little room. 

Miss Meile welcomed Jean as warmly as if she 
had been an old acquaintance. 

‘‘ When you have told your sister all about her 
work, you must come and have a cup of tea with 
me,” she said to Jack as she withdrew to the sit- 
ting-room. 

Jack had arranged Jean’s studies for her, and had 
brought with him a paper which he placed in her 
hands. 

“You will enter the classes to-morrow at the time 
and place there indicated,” said Jack. “ Your books 
will be sent to your room in the morning. We 
have entered you as irregular, since we thought 
best to defer your examinations until the end of the 
term.” 

“ A special class in Latin will be organized later 
on,” continued Jack, “probably at the beginning 
of the winter term. The class will consist largely 
of third-year academic students, who have decided 


74 


THE WILL AND THE WAY. 


to change to the classical course, and a few college 
students, who have entrance conditions to remove. 
The aim will be to do rapid work and cover the 
required amount of Latin in much less time than 
the regular classes usually need. I have entered 
your name as a member of the class.” 

“Had I not better take something instead?” 
asked Jean. “ I am to be here but a short time, 
and just one term of Latin could not benefit me 
much.” 

Jack smiled in a peculiar manner, but merely 
replied : 

“ I want you to take it, Jean. I liked my Latin 
from the first better than anything else, save math- 
ematics, and I want you to like it also ; ” then, com- 
ing up to Jean, he took her face between his hands 
and said in a low tone, “ I am going to tell you a 
secret. You must not even tell Dick just yet : I 
am going to teach the new Latin class myself.” 

Jack gave Jean no opportunity to express surprise 
at what he had confided to her, but led her at once 
into the next room, where Miss Meile, seated near 
a pretty tea-table, was awaiting them. 

The tea-kettle bubbled and sang over the glowing 
coals in the grate. Jean watched Miss Meile make 
the tea, and wondered how many pieces of the del- 
icate China she would break if she were to try it. 


JEAN’S FIRST DAY AT SCHOOE. 75 

and she felt quite relieved, when she passed her cup 
back, that nothing had happened to it. Jack with- 
drew early, leaving Jean and Miss Meile together. 

That evening lived long in Jean’s memory. 
Seated before the grate-fire, this new sympathetic 
friend drew from her the story of her simple life, 
and manifested such interest in every detail that 
she won the girl’s entire confidence. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


jack’s friend. 

** The brave do never shun the light ; 

Just are their thoughts, and open are their tempers ; 
Freely without disgrace they love or hate ; 

Still are they found in the fair face of day, 

And heaven and men are judges of their actions.” 

— Rowe, 

When Jack left Miss Meile’s rooms he went di- 
rectly to the secretary’s office, where he found Dr. 
Miller seated at a writing table near his own desk. 

“ The faculty are getting along without me, and 
there is such a rush of work here, I thought you 
might need me,” he explained to Jack. ‘‘ Is your 
sister comfortable ? ” 

“Yes, thank you. Such a ridiculous mistake. 
She is rooming with Lottie Harrington instead of 
with Ida Howell,” said Jack. 

Dr. Miller laughed outright. 

“ Miss Meile told me about your putting Jean 
into the wrong number, and we had a good laugh 
at your expense, my boy. After all. Jack, it is 

(76) 


JACK’S FRIEND. 77 

the most fortunate mistake you ever made ; it 
almost seems providential. Lottie is queer ” 

“ Queer ! she is more than queer,” exclaimed Jack. 

“Lottie is queer at times, but she is her true 
self,” continued the professor, smiling at Jack’s in- 
terruption. “ Lottie never pretends to be anything 
other than Lottie Harrington. She will promptly 
tell you her opinion of yourself, or upon any sub- 
ject concerning which you wish to consult her.” 

“And sometimes without being consulted,” said 
Jack. 

“ Now, Ida Howell is an admirable girl, but her 
every act and word seem studied ; she wholly lacks 
originality. She sometimes reminds me of a fine 
machine ; perfect in all the mechanism, but mech- 
anism it is, none the less. She is more of a cul- 
tured lady, but has less of a woman’s heart than 
Lottie.” 

Jack shrugged his shoulders in a way that plainly 
said that he was not convinced, but did not care to 
carry the argument further. “ Just one word more^ 
Jack,” continued Dr. Miller. “ To have placed Jean 
with Miss Howell would have been unfortunate. 
Jean is precise enough in her manner — she could be 
nothing else. An unnatural restraint has been upon 
her young life all along ; she needs rousing up if 
she is to benefit by her stay here. 


78 


THE WILL AND THE WAY. 


“ Lottie will gain more from the association than 
Jean. The girls have much in common, but are 
different in expression ; that is all. I will watch the 
counter-effect with interest. I have already learned 
to like Jean very much, and Lottie has long been a 
favorite with me.” 

Jack had too much respect for his friend’s opinion 
to continue the conversation after the, to him, 
odious comparison of the two girls. 

Tor some time the silence was unbroken save by 
the scratching of the pens as they worked rapidly 
upon the books, and the loud ticking of the old- 
fashioned wooden clock which occupied one corner 
of the room. 

‘‘ We have an unusually good opening this year,” 
finally remarked Jack. 

“ I do not remember a better beginning,” replied 
the professor. 

“ So many have come in from other schools with 
advanced credits ; a good thing for the college, no 
doubt ; but it doubles the book work for us,” said 
Jack. 

“ I was just thinking that either our secretary 
would have to work rapidly or subject himself to just 
criticism when he reads the rules in chapel in the 
morning,” said the professor. 

‘‘Abominable rules,” replied Jack shortly. “ I 


jack’s friend. 


79 


felt when I read them last year that I owed the 
student body an apology, and it was only the con- 
sciousness that I was but the instrument of the fac- 
ulty that enabled me to hold my peace.” 

Dr. Miller enjoyed these outbursts of his young 
friend, and drew him on still further. 

‘‘What would you have instead of rules. Jack?” 

“ I would put each student living upon the 
campus on honor,” replied Jack. 

“ I have seen some men, in my college experience, 
who had no honor,” dryly remarked the professor. 

“ I think there can be but few souls so dead as 
that ! ” exclaimed Jack. “ I fear we are too prone 
to judge hastily.” 

“ Especially in the case of young ladies,” quietly 
replied the professor. 

“ Oh, pshaw ! We expect more from girls natur- 
ally. Now, I will be disappointed if Dick fails to 
cut up a prank or two before the winter is over, but 
with Jean it is quite different ; nothing could sur- 
prise me more.” 

“ That, Jack, is a false code of honor. Our girls 
are good, naturally good, we call it ; but from ear- 
liest childhood their environment differs from that 
of their brothers. If we were to shield our boys 
from every evil influence as carefully as we protect 
our girls, the results would be very different.” 


8o 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


‘‘ But that would be impossible,” said Jack. ‘‘ It 
is necessary that boys should come in contact with 
life as it is, and to be taught to resist wrong while 
under the parents’ influence.” 

“ The same may be said of our girls, Jack. If 
we were to teach our girls to use their influence in 
the correction of pernicious tendencies they would 
shortly become a power for good. If, for instance, 
all our girls had some of Lottie’s spirit, there would 
not be so many bad boys.” 

“ May I ask your meaning? ” said Jack in aston- 
ishment. 

‘‘ Simply this : Lottie is a diamond in the rough. 
She may not always be as gentle in the demonstra- 
tion of her convictions as one could desire, but she 
is usually on the side of right. I will never forget 
her reply to young Robbins last spring, when on 
the tennis court he lighted a cigarette : ‘ With your 
permission. Miss Harrington ? ’ he said. ‘ With my 
permission, if you will do it, but not in my pres- 
ence,’ promptly replied Lottie, as she walked out of 
the court. It was a severe lesson for Robbins. 
Lottie was his partner, and she is by far the better 
player.” 

“ Lottie handles a racket skillfully,” said Jack, 
glad that he could conscientiously say something 
good about her. 


jack’s f^riend. 


8i 


Just then the retiring bell rang out in the still 
night air. The clear tones seemed to jar Jack. 

“ It will be after midnight before we finish, I fear ; 
but never mind, Jack, you do not read the rules be- 
fore morning,” and Dr. Miller leaned back in his 
chair to enjoy Jack’s discomfiture. 

“Then the president will follow you with the 
customary remarks about good students needing no 
law or rule ; that the rules are for the weak only,” 
continued Dr. Miller. 

“ It will be the fourth time that I have heard 
that speech,” said Jack, in an irritated tone. 

“ It will be the fifteenth time that I have heard 
it, and it is ever new when it comes from Dr. 
Hegel’s lips ; but come. Jack, we are wasting valua- 
ble time,” said Dr. Miller. 

The two friends confined themselves strictly to 
work and limited their conversation to the subject 
matter under consideration. 

They had burned the oil far into the wee hours, 
when the professor wearily arose from his chair and 
said : “ Gentlemen of the faculty, the report is 
ready, and I am very tired.” 

“As usual, you have been more than kind. Dr. 
Miller. I could not possibly have completed the 
work before daylight, had it not been for your 
help,” said Jack. 

6 


82 


THE WILL AND THE WAY. 


“ Tut, tut ! run off to bed, my boy, and get some 
sleep,” said the professor. 

Jack carefully closed and locked the desk, and, 
after having latched the office door, he crossed the 
campus to the boys’ dormitory, which was also in 
his charge. 

‘‘ The bo3^s had a good chance for a ‘ time ; ’ not a 
single instructor in the building,” thought Jack. 

That the boys had not failed to make good use of 
the opportunity, he learned several times before he 
reached his room. He finally opened his own door 
by cutting the rope that fastened it. He found Dick 
very much awake, vainly trying to remove all traces 
of paint from his cheeks and forehead. 

The sophomores had taken possession of the de- 
serted hall, and had improved the hour by initiat- 
ing the freshmen. Dick and Mr. Malan chanced to 
be in their rooms and at once became victims ; 
decorated with war-paint and feathers, they had been 
marched about as Indians. 

Jack was too tired to feel amused at Dick’s pecu- 
liar appearance. He roused old Jeremiah from his 
sleep in order that he might go to the laboratory for 
chemicals to remove the paint. He sent some to 
Malan, and instructed Dick as to its use, then threw 
himself down to snatch a few hours’ sleep before, 
the cares of another day should engross him. 


CHAPTER IX. 


jean’s letter. 

Fenwick Hall, 9.30 p. m. 
Dear Parents, Robbie, Fred, Aunt Jo, and 
Katherine : 

To-night I am going to write a family letter ; it 
would take too long to write to each one. It 
seems scarcely possible that only fourteen hours ago 
I left home : so much has happened since then. 

I am not going to have you laugh at my descrip- 
tion of my first car ride, though I did enjoy seeing 
the trees and telegraph poles go by so fast. At noon 
we reached Milton. Jack met us at the train, but 
he was so busy with the new students that I had 
to wait in the office with him, and did not get into 
my room until nearly tea-time. 

The Dr. Miller who was so good to Jack last year 
is a nice old gentleman. He came down on the 
same train, and sat just across the aisle from us. 
When Jack introduced me to him afterward, he 
made fun of me out of his eyes, but looked so good 
and kind that I liked him very much in spite of that. 

(83) 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


Jack finally took me over to the hall, where the 
girls all stay, and turned me over to Miss Meile, the 
preceptress. 

Miss Meile is so pretty and good that I love her 
already. She has snow-white hair and a skin like 
a baby’s. Her eyes are so black that they sparkle. 
She is about as tall as Aunt Jo, and has such pretty 
white hands that Bob would like to study them in- 
stead of those ugly charts for his drawings. She 
wore a black dress with heavy crape on it, and way 
back in her eyes there is such a sad look, just as if 
she were trying to hide some great sorrow from the 
world about her. 

Miss Meile sent her maid to show me to my 
room. Lila looks so nice in her white cap and pink 
dress. It must be pleasant even to be Miss Meile’s 
maid. 

When Lila opened the door of my room the fun- 
niest girl was sitting in one of the windows, cro- 
cheting. Her name is Lottie Harrington, and we are 
to room together. She wears her hair in short 
curls, that bob up and down all the time. When 
we went down to supper she just ran her fingers 
through them and they fell in ringlets all over her 
head. She said she did not like combs, because 
they pull, and brushes are no good. 

We ate supper in a very large dining-room in the 


jean’s letter. 


85 


basement of this building. There are a great many 
tables, with ten persons at each one. Jack has the 
table next to ours, and Dick sits at his table. I 
could not be with them because they are all fresh- 
men, and Jack has charge of them. I could easily 
speak to them by turning around, which of course 
I will not do, but I can easily see both the boys 
when we come out. 

Miss McKenzie sits at the head of our table. She 
is way up in college, in Jack’s class. It seems 
strange that he has never mentioned her to us. She 
is Scotch, and very pretty. At her left sits a Mr. 
Dalton, a new third-year preparatory student, who 
thinks a great deal of himself. I do not believe I 
will like him very well. Next to Dalton sit two 
girls about my age. The first is Elsie McKenzie. 
She looks like her sister, but is much younger, and 
does not have the pretty Scotch accent. The girl 
next to Elsie McKenzie is very dark ; she has an 
olive complexion, and very black eyes and hair ; 
her name is Edna Brannon, and she has an older 
sister who is a member of Miss McKenzie’s class, 
and sits at our table also, at Miss McKenzie’s right. 
Miss Brannon is very unlike her sister ; she is a 
lovely blonde, and has soft, wavy hair. Next to 
Miss Brannon is a Mr. Benton. I do not like him 
at all now. He may improve upon better ac- 


86 


THE WILE AND THE WAY, 


quaintance. He has dark eyes and heavy eyebrows, 
and scowls just like Fred does when he cannot work 
his problems. There is a vacant chair between Mr. 
Benton and myself. Just across the table from 
where I sit, and next to Edna Brannon, sits a quiet 
little girl. She did not look up once, and I did not 
hear her speak save to answer Miss Meile’s question 
concerning her journey. At our end of the table 
there is a Mr. Malan. He is a new student also, 
but I heard Jack say that he would be a freshman. 
Mr. Dalton, Edna Brannon, Elsie McKenzie, and 
Mr. Benton are third-year preparatory, and Jack said 
he thought that that would be my regular class after 
I pass my examinations. 

After supper I unpacked my trunk. Lottie had 
tumbled her things out before I came. I do wish 
you could see how she hung up her dresses in the 
closet ; her drawer in the dresser is no better ; the 
things look as if they had been churned. I wonder 
how she can find what she wants — maybe she only 
wants what she can find, that would be an easy way 
out of the difficulty. 

Lila came to tell me that Jack wanted me in Miss 
Meile’s room. He gave me written directions about 
my work. I will commence going to classes to- 
morrow, but will have no recitations until the day 
after. 


jean’s letter. 


87 


Jack and I took tea with Miss Meile : just a tiny 
bit in one of the daintiest cups I ever held. After 
tea Jack went to the office and Miss Meile and I 
had a good long visit. She put a stool near the 
grate-fire for me and drew a chair up so that I rested 
my head against her knee, and we talked about 
everything. She was much pleased to hear what 
I told her about Rob’s paintings. After I had told 
her everything about you, I asked Miss Meile where 
her own home was. 

‘‘I have no home, Jean,” she said sadly; “I am 
the wandering Jew. I will have no home until I 
rest beneath the church-yard sod.” I was sorry 
that I had asked her about her home. She did not 
talk much after that. Miss Meile sat and looked 
into the coals for some time, and then called Lila 
to go with me to my room. 

‘‘ We will have many evenings together, Jean,” 
she said, as she bade me good-night. 

Lottie was fast asleep when I went in ; she must 
have been lonely. 

I can scarcely think of sleeping here ; it seems as 
if I ought to help mother first. 

Aunt Jo must use my room while I am away. 
She can hear mother better than in her own room. 
I wonder whether you know that I kept the brown 
liniment on the top shelf of the medicine closet. 


88 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


1 hope Katherine did not forget Brownie and her 
chicks to-night. 

I have written you a long letter. I know you 
will be glad to hear everything, and I will write 
often. 

With love to all, 

Jean. 


CHAPTER X. 


JEAN AT WORK. 

“ For none of us liveth to himself.” — Bible. 

Jean folded and sealed her letter, and then di- 
rected it in her fair round hand. How differently 
she felt from what she had anticipated. She no 
longer thought about her books, but longed to know 
whether her mother was resting, and whether all 
was well at home. She recalled for the second time 
the words of the minister : “ Leave your mother in 
the hands of the Father.” She had still to learn 
that sweet dependence upon the divine Parent, 
which enables the trusting soul to endure the cares 
and responsibilities of life, yet the knowledge that 
her mother could be cared for by an unseen power 
which ‘‘doeth all things well” was comforting to her. 

It was late when Jean sought her pillow, and the 
morning sun was pouring in at the open casement, 
where Lottie was perched with her crocheting, when 
she awoke. 

“ You are an early bird ! ” was Lottie’s greeting. 

(89) 


90 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


“ I have been up and dressed these two hours, and 
have almost finished this fascinator. See, is it not 
lovely ? ” and she held the pretty blue scarf at arm’s 
length for Jean’s opinion. 

The strange room and Lottie’s presence confused 
Jean. 

“ Well ! are your wits wool-gathering ? why don’t 
you say it is pretty ? ” 

“ It is pretty,” exclaimed Jean. I could not 
think for one moment where I was.” 

“You had better not waste much time trying to 
find out either ; it is breakfast-time now,” said 
Lottie. 

“ Oh ! I am sorry. I will not keep you waiting 
long,” cried Jean. 

The girls were late, and Jack was impatiently 
waiting for Jean in the hall. He frowned as she 
approached, arm in arm with Lottie. 

“You will meet me in the office, Jean, imme- 
diately after you have had your breakfast. I want 
to talk to you about some of your studies.” 

Jean again found Jack surrounded with students 
when she sought him in the secretary’s office later. 
She noticed how tired he looked, and for the first 
time it occurred to her that her brother’s life in col- 
lege was not easy. She waited patiently for Jack’s 
advice in regard to her studies, but the group of 


JKAN AT WORK. 


91 


students increased constantly until she began to 
despair of gaining even a few moments of his time. 

To Jean’s delight, at the ringing of the large col- 
lege bell, there was a scramble for the door, and the 
room was empty save for herself and Jack. She 
was again doomed to disappointment, however, for 
Jack also arose, and, taking up a roll of manuscript, 
said : 

“ Come, sis, we cannot wait ; that was the chapel 
bell, and I must be there.” 

They passed down the long hall to the end of the 
large building, where Jack swung open a door, and 
Jean stood in the entrance of the beautiful college 
chapel. The sun lighted up the stained windows 
and flooded the room with beautiful tints. Students 
were passing hurriedly but noiselessly down the 
aisle and taking their seats. On a raised platform 
at the end of the chapel, behind a row of potted 
palms, sat a kindly-faced, white-haired man. To 
the right, seated on chairs arranged in semicircles, 
were the members of the college and academic 
faculties, some of whom Jean recognized. To the 
left, at a small organ, sat — kottie. 

Just in front of the organ a male quartette with 
open books was ready to lead the singing. 

To Jack the compulsory attendance at chapel had 
been so distasteful that he had never mentioned the 


92 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


morning service to Jean, and, with much surprise, 
she drank in the beauty of the scene, while her 
brother hastily arranged his papers. 

Lottie’s voluntary ended, and the white-haired 
man arose, and, with outstretched hands, invoked a 
benediction ; then followed a psalm by the students. 
Jean quietly took a seat in the rear, and Jack went 
down the aisle and found his place in the semicircle 
on the platform. 

Jean’s sense of the beautiful responded to her 
surroundings. The face of the Madonna in the 
window took on additional beauty from the glory 
of the sunlight as she gazed upon it. 

“ The sea is His, and He made it,” 

chanted the students, and over Jean there crept a 
sense of the greatness, the majesty of the Creator, 
which filled her with a feeling of awe that she had 
never known before. 

Miss Meile took her place at Jean’s side, and 
bowed her head in silent prayer while the students 
sang : 

‘ ‘ For He is our God, and we are the people of His pasture and 
the sheep of His hands. ’ ’ 

A great longing came to Jean in her loneliness 
to know this loving Father’s care. 

After the singing many announcements for the 


JEAN AT WORK. 


93 


day followed, and Jack read a long list of rules 
and regulations which were to govern the conduct 
of the students residing upon the campus. Then 
followed a talk to the new students from the white- 
haired president. He advised them in regard to 
their studies, the choice of intimate friends, and the 
best use of their time. In a fatherly manner, which 
brought tears to Jean’s eyes, he plead with them not 
to neglect their religious duties. He said that the 
development of character was the development of 
soul, and that they would perform their duty to 
themselves and their fellow-men only when they 
had performed their whole duty to God ; education 
consisted of an expansion of soul which would en- 
able it to grasp divine truths, which were eternal. 
With bowed head, the president asked for guidance 
and blessing in the day’s work. 

The closing hymn was one that Jean had sung 
many times before, but it had for her a strangely 
new meaning as the students sang : 

“ Forth in Thy name, oh Lord, we go ; ” 

and as she passed out with the rest and on into 
the recitation-room to register as a member of the 
algebra class, the closing lines : 

“ Would tread our course with even joy. 

And closely walk with Thee to heaven,” 

• continued to sound in her ears. 


94 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


Jack had been unable to advise Jean further, but 
she readily found her place in the different classes. 
She was neither so strange nor so much alone as 
she had anticipated. Edna Brannon and Elsie Mc- 
Kenzie were already seated when she entered the 
room for mathematics, and beckoned to her to take 
the vacant chair at their side ; near them were Miss 
Seymore and Miss Derwood. Mr. Dalton entered 
the room, with a frown upon his face, and took a 
chair by the side of Mr. Benton. The lesson was 
soon assigned for the next day, the names of the 
class collected, and the students dismissed. With 
Elsie and Edna, Jean went from room to room and 
formed the acquaintance of her professors, and reg- 
istered in her classes. Her reception everywhere 
had been so cordial that she no longer felt lonely, 
but returned to Fenwick Hall in the afternoon in a 
very happy frame of mind. 

The books which Jack had ordered were lying on 
her table, and Jean sat down to prepare the first les- 
son for the morrow with a feeling that at last she 
was about to commence the work for which she had 
planned so long and hoped for so ardently. Her 
heart overflowed with gratitude to her parents and 
to Jack and Aunt Jo for having made this possible, 
and, as she opened her new algebra and found the 
lesson assigned, she was also conscious of a grate- 


JEAN AT WORK. 


95 


ful feeling to a power higher than her earthly 
friends. 

The remarks of the president in the chapel exer- 
cises of the morning had given Jean a new impulse. 
She had desired an education merely for the grati- 
fication of personal needs and desires and personal 
ambitions, but already, at the very beginning of 
her work, she had been confronted with the fact 
that an education was to be desired as a means 
toward the fulfillment of a duty to our fellow- 
men as well as a duty to one’s self. Jean had 
never been slow to do a kindness for those with 
whom she came in contact, and in her own home 
love had prompted unusual self-sacrifices, but that 
she owed a duty to the world at large had never oc- 
curred to her before. The president had said that 
they would perform their duty to others and to 
themselves when they had performed their whole 
duty to God. What was this duty to God which the 
president had mentioned in connection with an ed- 
ucation ? Jean was conscious of a rebellious feeling 
when her thoughts reverted to the duty to God as 
laid down by Neighbor Allen, and then the recol- 
lections of the past crept in and hardened her heart 
against the softening influences of the day. 

She closed her book, no longer in a mood for 
study, and sat by the window and watched the 


96 


THE WIEL AND THE WAY. 


students upon the campus. The large oaks and 
elms, with their gently waving branches, cast long 
moving shadows upon the green sward ; here and 
there merry groups of students were gathered in the 
refreshing shade, chatting and laughing, and enjoy- 
ing each other’s society as students can. 

At one side of the campus a large crowd was 
gathered around the tennis court. Jean failed to 
recognize the players at that distance, but when the 
game was ended, and they came across the green 
toward Fenwick Hall, she saw that Lottie and Dick 
were walking side by side, and that Dick was car- 
rying the tennis rackets. They were in the best of 
spirits, and Jean heard Lottie’s merry laugh several 
times before they reached the steps leading to the 
piazza. She saw Dick raise his cap to Lottie and 
turn away ; one moment later Lottie bounded into 
the room like a whirlwind — spinning and turning, 
beating time with her toes to the tune she was 
humming. 

“ I have had a jolly good time with that new 
brother of yours ; he is just splendid. I don’t like 
your brother Jack one bit — too persimmons. This 
one is just right, and I am going to teach him to 
play tennis. We are to have another game after 
supper.” 

While Lottie was talking she was hastily getting 


JEAN A'r WORK. 


97 


ready for the call to the dining-room ; her hat and 
racket she tossed upon the bed, while her gloves 
landed at Jean’s feet. She seated herself near Jean 
in the window, and tried to subdue her curly locks. 

‘‘Now tell me what yon have been doing with 
yourself all day. I caught a glimpse of yon in 
chapel, and saw you once in the hall. Have you 
been very busy ? ” 

“ Do you always play the organ for chapel ? ” 
asked Jean without answering Lottie’s questions. 

“Yes,” answered Lottie carelessly. “ I cannot 
say that I enjoy it particularly, but it pays my tui- 
tion.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Jean. 

“Well, I mean just this,” said Lottie. “I hoe 
my own row. I earn my tuition in chapel, and then 
I get a little in this way,” and she took up a violin 
case from the corner near her and tenderly lifted 
the instrument from its resting-place, and stroked 
it lovingly as if it were a thing of life. 

“ Do you play the violin for money ? ” asked 
Jean, who had never earned a penny outside of her 
allowance. 

“ I have played some, but papa does not approve 
of it ; I have a few pupils at present. My father is 
a fine violinist, and he taught me merely for pas- 
time. It has served me well thus far ; and then,” 
7 


98 THE WILE AND THE WAY. 

continued Lottie, “ I turn many an odd penny by 
my crocheting.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Jean in surprise, will anyone pay 
for that ? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” replied Lottie, as she brought a box 
from the closet ; “ here are some things which I 
made during the summer so as to have them ready.” 

Jean took genuine pleasure in holding and exam- 
ining the pretty patterns which Lottie showed her. 

“ When did you do all this ? ” she asked. 

‘‘At odd moments. I keep my basket on the 
window and never lose time. See this handker- 
chief ? I am almost tempted to use that myself, but 
I know that I cannot afford it.” 

That Lottie could not afford the product of her 
own fingers seemed strange to Jean. 

The two girls lingered over the box of laces until 
the tea bell rang. 

“ Where do you sell them ? ” asked Jean, as she 
glanced into the mirror to make sure that she was 
in perfect order. 

“ The girls here buy some and give me orders 
from friends, and I sell the rest in the city. I made 
all my expenses last year. Papa has a country 
charge, and gets a very small salary. It would de- 
prive them of many comforts to support me. There 
is but little frosting on the home cake as it is. I 


JEAN AT WORK. 


99 


will have two more years after this, and then I will 
help papa educate the boys,” said Lottie, as the 
girls went slowly down the stairs. 

Jean was busy with her thoughts, revolving the 
many events of the day in her mind as she ate in 
silence. 

‘‘You will go with us. Miss Andrews?” asked 
Miss McKenzie. 

“ I beg your pardon, I was not listening,” and 
Jean blushed painfully. 

“We are going to the depot to meet Katie — Dr. 
Miller’s daughter.” 

“ Oh, certainly. I will be very glad to go.” 

Jean stopped in the hall to talk to Jack. He 
looked so tired that she wished that she might help 
him with his work. 

“ You work too hard. Jack,” said Jean. 

“ Yes. A day or two more and the rush will be 
over. I cannot see much of you until then. Get 
acquainted with the girls as fast as you can, Jean ; 
it will help you to keep from getting homesick, and 
then you have some lessons to learn which are not 
in the books, you know,” and Jack smiled as he 
hurried off to the office. 

The long train rolled into the little college sta- 
tion. A slight figure appeared upon the rear plat- 
form. Dr. Miller hastened forward and lifted the 


L.ofC. 


lOO 


THE WIEE and the WAY. 


child-like form of his daughter in his arms and 
placed her in the low, easy phaeton which he had in 
waiting. 

Jean saw him place a crutch at the girl’s side, 
and then she thought she knew why Dr. Miller had 
looked so sad when he spoke to her of his daughter. 

‘‘ Come, Miss Andrews. You must meet Katie,” 
and Miss McKenzie led Jean up to where Dr. Miller 
was standing near his daughter. 

‘‘Good-evening, Miss Andrews. Katie, this is 
Jean — Jack Andrews’ sister.” 

“ I know you already, Jean. Jack has told me 
about you. I am so glad to see you,” and Katie 
reached out her slender white hand and grasped 
Jean’s brown palm. 

Jean looked into a beautiful face, delicate as 
tinted china. The golden hair waved and curled 
above the low white forehead. The deep-blue eyes, 
fringed with long lashes, looked into Jean’s face 
with a joyous, loving light. 

“You must come and see me, Jean. I am no 
longer a student, and you will always find me at 
home.” 

“ I will come to see you as soon as I may,” replied 
Jean ; the sympathy which she felt for the unfor- 
tunate girl plainly showed itself in her face. 

“ You may come at any time,” said Dr. Miller, 


JEAN AT WORK. 


lOI 


cordially. “ Katie frequently feels lonely, and will 
want to see you often.” 

Jean resolved to do all within her power to 
brighten Katie’s lot 


CHAPTER XL 


KATIE’S PRAYER MEETING. 

“ I value prayer so, 

That were I to leave all but one, 

Wealth, fame, endowments, virtues, all should go, 

I and dear prayer could together dwell. 

And quickly gain for each inch lost an ell.” 

— George Herbert. 

As the days passed Jean’s work grew more and 
more pleasant. The thirsting mind drank in the 
knowledge gained in the daily recitations with an 
eagerness that surprised both teachers and class- 
mates. 

She had also learned some of the lessons which 
Jack said were not contained in the books. She 
had never had a girl friend ; her brothers had been 
her only companions, and had furnished the neces- 
sary outlet to the joyous child nature, which con- 
finement with her mother in the sick chamber 
suppressed. Jean could run a foot-race or climb a 
tree. Fearlessly she would challenge Rob or Fred 
to swing on the bending branches of the tall wil- 


KATIE’S PRAYER MEETING. IO3 

lows that grew near the barn. To row was one of 
her diversions, and, when leisure afforded the oppor- 
tunity, she thoroughly enjoyed a canter about the 
pasture on the bare back of one of the colts. At 
the mother’s side she was demure and womanly. 
When the tired limbs no longer required the gentle 
rubbing to ease the pain, she wrought dainty laces 
or embroideries, while conversing with the invalid. 

In Lottie, Jean found a very similar and com- 
panionable nature, and the two girls rapidly became 
the best of friends. As Dr. Miller had expressed 
it, they were complementary to each other. Jean’s 
timidity in the presence of strangers gave way some- 
what under Lottie’s counteracting influence, whereas 
Lottie’s rash impulses were curbed by Jean’s quiet 
manner. 

Early surroundings had affected the girls dif- 
ferently in their religious as well as in their social 
lives. Jean had learned to regard religion as the 
predominating evil influence wherever her fortunes 
were concerned. Lottie thoroughly loved her par- 
ents, and respected their teachings, and had early 
espoused the cause of church and creed in conse- 
quence. With her religion was to be sought after 
and possessed by all, but Lottie had not yet learned 
to make personal ambitions secondary. The sacred 
vows which she had taken upon herself at confirma- 


104 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


tion were not kept green by constant renewal at the 
foot of the altar. In her anxiety to help her father 
financially, she sometimes neglected this most im- 
portant part of her education. 

Both Lottie and Jean had a most devoted friend 
in Katie Miller. Katie had early given her heart 
to her Saviour, and had never wandered far from 
Him. Christ was to her a personal friend with 
whom she could hold sweet communion. The 
attributes of the Spirit, love and peace, were hers 
abundantly. Katie longed to bring to others the 
joy of a Christian life, and had often been instru- 
mental in awakening a soul to the knowledge of its 
Redeemer. She knew how the rigid religious 
sway in Jean’s home had embittered her, as well as 
her brothers, toward the Master whom she loved. 
She would soon have learned to like Jean for her 
own sake, had she not already learned to love her 
by oft remembering her at the throne of mercy, even 
before she had met her. 

The religious life of Fenwick Hall received new 
impulse from Katie’s presence, and when at the 
close of the second week the tap, tap of Katie’s 
crutch was heard in the halls as she went from 
door to door, the old girls knew that it was an 
invitation to the Friday evening prayer meeting. 
They welcomed her with her message, as they 


KATIE’S PRAYER MEETING. 105 

would have welcomed no other girl in Fenwick 
Hall. 

When Katie reached Jean’s and Lottie’s room she 
entered and seated herself in Lottie’s chair. The 
two girls received the invitation differently. 

“To be sure,” said Lottie. “ I promised mamma 
that I would go every time this year.” 

Jean was too honest to feign pleasure and too 
kind-hearted to hurt Katie by a refusal ; not know- 
ing what answer to make to Katie’s request, she 
remained silent. 

“Will you come, too, Jean? ” finally asked Katie. 

“ I am sure I cannot say. I have never been in 
the habit of attending prayer meetings,” faltered 
Jean. 

“ But you will come to this one,” persisted Katie. 
“ If you do not enjoy it you need not come again. 
I will be very much disappointed if you are not 
there.” 

“ If it will give you pleasure, I will surely go,” 
replied Jean. 

“ O ! thank you. I will be so glad to see you 
both,” said Katie, as she arose to go. “I must 
see some more of the new girls, and it is almost 
time for the study bell. Good-night. You will not 
forget ; next week, Friday night, in Miss Meile’s 
room ; ” and Katie went on her mission of love to 


io6 


THK WILIv AND THE WAY. 


visit other rooms. Lottie and Jean were soon busy 
with the lessons for the morrow, and the meeting 
was forgotten. 

“ Friday night at last ! ” exclaimed Lottie, as she 
banged her books down on the little study table. 
“ Lessons all over, and now for a lark ! I always take 
Friday night as my own personal property, and en- 
joy myself after my own fashion. Let — me — see. 
Yes, to-night we will make fudges. You need ini- 
tiating, I see, by the way you stare at me. Fudges, 
my dear, are a conglomeration of ingredients, inter- 
mingled in such a manner as to produce a substance 
not at all unpleasant to the palate. Now, Miss 
Prue, since you have the definition, please don that 
gingham apron, and we will proceed. I promised 
Dick some at supper. After supper we will have a 
game or two of tennis, and then I think I will spend 
the remainder of the evening trimming my last 
winter’s hat.” 

“ Do you know I am to sing in the church choir 
Sunday ? ” continued Lottie. “ Synod meets here, 
and they are practicing extra music.” 

“ What is synod ? ” questioned Jean. 

“A synod, my dear, is an august assemblage of 
divines,” answered Lottie, carelessly, as she stirred 
chocolate and sugar energetically. 


KATIE’S PRAYER MEETING. 107 

Now, Jean, take that box out of the closet, open 
it and light the alcohol lamp, and Y/e will be ready 
for action.” 

“Which box, and how am I to get at it?” 
laughed Jean. 

“ O, never mind the state of my belongings. ‘ Seek 
and ye shall find,’ ” answered Lottie with a toss of 
her curls. 

Jean did as Lottie had commanded. For some 
reason the Scripture, so thoughtlessly quoted, kept 
sounding in her ears, “ Seek and ye shall find.” 
It had been the text the last time she had heard 
Rev. Simons preach. Jean wondered how it was 
that religion was a thing to be sought after. 

“ Day dreaming, as usual. I declare, Jean, you 
are yet to be a poetess, or a novelist, or something 
better than either,” exclaimed Lottie. “ Come now, 
light that lamp, and let us get it to boiling. Sup- 
per will be here in no time, and Dick must have his 
fudges.” 

“ Lottie, are you going to that prayer meeting to- 
night ? ” asked Jean, as she placed the dish of choc- 
olate over the tiny flame. 

“ Why, yes, of course. I am glad you mentioned 
it ; for I am sure I had entirely forgotten it. Katie 
Vv^ould feel bad if either of us were to stay away.” 

“ Do you go only for Katie’s sake? ” asked Jean. 


I 08 THE WIEL AND THE WAY. 

‘‘Yes, I suppose so ; part Katie’s and part mam- 
ma’s,” replied Lottie. “ Stir that candy or it will 
burn ; one would think you about to read me a lec- 
ture by the way you look.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Lottie. I am not the one to 
lecture ; but it does seem to me that, for a profess- 
ing Christian, your motive is not just right. I am 
going for Katie’s sake, to be sure, but I could go for 
no other reason,” said Jean. 

“ You are right, as usual, Jean,” replied Lottie, 
as she prepared the plates for cooling the candy. 
“ I know I am not nearly good enough for my pro- 
fession, and yet I do not think that I am so down- 
right wicked as Jack takes me to be. Are you 
measuring me by his standard now ? ” 

“No, Lottie, no,” said Jean earnestly. “You 
have been so good and kind to me ; it was cruel to 
criticise you so severely. I was thoughtless ; we 
have no right to question motives ” 

“You need say no more. I grant the pardon you 
are about to ask,” interrupted Lottie. 

Lottie was late in coming from the tennis court, 
and Jean sat waiting. A silver bell tinkled in the 
halls. It was the call to Katie’s prayer meeting. 
Jean arose hesitatingly — she had promised, and she 
would go without Lottie. 

A cheerful gathering around Miss Meile’s fire- 


KATIE’S PRAYER MEETING. I09 

place welcomed her. It did not seem much like 
the prayer meetings Jean had attended before. 

The fire-light’s ruddy glow gave a home-like air 
to the room as it lighted up the earnest young faces. 

Jean took the stool by Miss Meile’s side, in re- 
sponse to a smile and a nod from her. 

A hush fell upon the room when Katie took her 
place at the little table by the fireside. After a 
short silence a sweet young voice started a familiar 
hymn, in which all joined, while Katie opened her 
Bible and marked a number of passages. Scarcely 
had the last words of the song died away, when all 
heads were bowed, and at Jean’s side arose an earn- 
est, loving prayer for the young Christian girls there 
gathered, for guidance and strength in the work be- 
fore them, that they might be wise to win others 
with whom they came in daily contact to the 
Saviour whom they loved. The voice ceased and 
other voices continued. Several prayed for help 
individually in overcoming weaknesses, and then, 
last of all, Katie made a plaintive plea for help to 
overcome the evil in her own heart. 

Jean mentally contrasted the prayers offered in 
the little prayer meeting with those she had heard 
at the union meetings. There she had heard 
thanksgiving for the degree of perfection attained, 
and earnest supplications for divine mercy upon the 


no 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


godless souls present. Here there seemed to prevail 
a spirit of love for those outside and a feeling of 
personal weakness and shortcoming. What possible 
evil could Katie have hidden in her heart, Jean 
wondered, and yet Katie’s prayer had seemed even 
more sincere than had the others. A voice near the 
door started a hymn, which all sang with heads 
still bowed. Jean had never regarded a hymn as a 
prayer before, and yet that was what it seemed like, 
as the girls sang it — prayer in song. 

Katie’s Bible opened readily at the places which 
she had marked as selections for the evening’s lesson. 
She read in a sweet low tone, without rising from 
her chair. Then followed song or prayer, just as 
the speakers were inclined ; a few asked for the help 
of their friends upon the way. When the hour was 
up — all too soon — they joined in singing that hymn, 
old but ever new : 

“ Now I resolved with all my heart, 

With all my power to serve the Eord.” 

Jean thought the spirit of the meeting was 
voiced in the verse : 

“ Oh ! be this service all my joy, 

Around let my example shine, 

’Til others love the blest employ. 

And join in labors so divine.” 


KATIE’S PRAYER MEETING. 


Ill 


Jean left Miss Meile’s room as soon as she could 
do so quietly. She wanted to be alone. The meet- 
ing had disturbed her strangely. She had enjoyed 
it ; not a single word had made her feel uncomfort- 
able. It was a religion very different from what 
she had known before. These girls were cheerful 
and happy. 

She had noticed Edna Brannon and Elsie Mc- 
Kenzie among those who had taken an active part 
in the meeting. They were the merriest girls in 
her class. Jean recalled how kind and thoughtful 
they had been to her since she first entered school. 
Then there was Lottie ; she did not seem just like 
the other girls, but Jean felt that Lottie was a Chris- 
tian. She was conscious of an unexpressed wish 
that Lottie might be more like Miss Meile and 
Katie in her religious life. Then Jean thought of 
her mother, and wondered whether Miss Meile’s 
religion would not make her much happier. She 
felt that she herself lacked something which was 
filling and shaping the lives of her classmates, and 
she resolved to attend all of Katie’s prayer meetings 
in Miss Meile’s room. 

‘‘ In the dark ? ” said Lottie, as she came in. 
‘‘ Why did you leave so early ? We always have tea 
with Miss Meile, and a social half-hour after the 
meetings. I wanted to come after you, but Miss 


II2 


THE WIEIv AND THE WAY. 


Meile said that you had some reason for hurrying 
off, and would not let me come.” 

“ I am very tired to-night,” said Jean, rising. 

“ Ditto ; I think I will leave the hats until to- 
morrow. I was thinking this evening of how I 
would turn your little Quaker felt into a stylish hat 
for Sunday.” 

“ My hat ! ” said Jean, in surprise. 

“ You certainly need a change from your summer 
wear, and why not make it now ? ” asked Dottie. 

I know just what kind of a hat would suit that 
face of yours ; so please allow me the pleasure of 
gratifying my taste for once,” continued Lottie. 

Lottie’s garments had been flying in all directions 
while she was speaking. She knelt by the bed 
from force of habit, and the room was silent. 

“ Lottie, what do you say when you pray ? ” asked 
Jean, when Lottie had risen to her feet. 

“ I learned a number of prayers when I was little. 
I change about and use first one and then another.” 

‘‘ Do you ever pray like the girls did to-night? ” 
asked Jean. “ It seems to me that I never heard 
such prayers before — they seemed so good, so 
natural.” 

Lottie looked at Jean in astonishment, only half 
comprehending her meaning, and, not knowing how 
to answer her, remained silent. 


KATIE’S PRAYER MEETING. 1 13 

That night the moon peeped in at the window 
while one of the girls slept and the other, with wide- 
open eyes, was thinking the thoughts which were 
slowly and surely leading her to paths of peace and 
righteousness. 

Methinks that at such times we can almost hear 
the flutter of angelic wings, when a soul, awakened 
for the first time to the knowledge of God’s love, 
longs for the joy of His service. 


CHAPTER XII. 


jean’s difficuety. 

“ Men’s natures wrangle with inferior things, though great 
ones are their object.” — Shakespeare, 

Eottie’S skillful fingers had wrought changes in 
Jean’s simple wardrobe. Sunday morning found 
the blue henrietta converted into a stylish suit, in 
Jean’s eyes, by the addition of some pretty velvet 
ribbon bows and buttons covered with the same 
material. The little gray felt hat had been wholly 
transformed. The straight brim had been caught 
up in front and completely covered with drooping 
ostrich plumes. Bands of blue velvet and a jaunty 
bow made it look as if it had been made to order to 
wear with the dress. Jean admired her reflection in 
the mirror, and remembered how often she had 
wished for such things. She wondered how Jack and 
Dick had happened to know just what Lottie needed 
to trim her hat and dress so nicely. She took off the 
pretty hat reluctantly when she heard the breakfast 
bell. 


jean’s difeicuety. 


II5 

When Jean had taken her place at the table she 
noticed that an unusual silence followed her ap- 
proach — Elsie and Edna glanced at her and smiled. 
Mr. Dalton bit his moustache in an annoyed man- 
ner, while Mr. Malan seemed confused. Jean was 
conscious of having disturbed them by her en- 
trance, and as they were leaving the room she asked 
Elsie to tell her the reason. 

“ I cannot,” replied Elsie, as she hastened on at 
Edna’s side. 

Jean became more perplexed still by Elsie’s 
answer and her strange conduct, and she went at 
once to her room, where she consulted Eottie. 

‘‘ I will find out for you,” said Eottie, and she 
dashed from the room. 

Eottie soon returned, too indignant to speak at 
first. 

‘‘ That horrid Dalton ! No wonder they acted 
strange when you came in ! ” she sputtered. ‘‘ Do 
you know that they were betting — actually betting 
— Dalton and Malan, that Dalton would or would 
not take you to church to-night. They are going 
to exchange places at dinner so as to give Dalton a 
chance to ask you. If you go, Malan furnishes 
marshmallows at breakfast to-morrow ; and if you do 
not, Dalton will have to ‘ treat.’ It is a downright 
shame ; the only reconciling feature about it is that 


Il6 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

there will be marshmallows at breakfast.” Lottie’s 
eyes flashed and she tossed her curls about as she 
continued in a most decided tone, as if the matter 
were settled. ‘‘You will not go, Brownie.” 

“ Now I must hurry off to practice that anthem 
once more. Be sure to get your hat on just right, 
and here is a small addition to your toilet,” said 
Lottie, as she fastened a small gold brooch at Jean’s 
neck. “ Remember you are to sit where I can see 
you. Jack and I will have seats side by side during 
the entire service — what a bore to both of us ! ” She 
put on her own hat and gloves and hurried off with- 
out even a glance at herself in the glass. 

Jean slowly fitted the gloves which Dick had 
brought her to her hands, and then she left the hall 
for a walk in the bright sunshine before church- 
time. Her thoughts were no longer occupied by the 
pretty garments which Lottie had produced for her. 
Lottie’s revelation had startled Jean. Unlike other 
girls of her age, young men had never entered into 
her day dreams. Dalton she especially disliked for 
no other reason that she could give to herself than 
that she disliked him. “ How can I avoid him?” 
she asked of herself many times. She might re- 
main away from dinner, but he would still be there 
at supper. She had reached no conclusion as to a 
way out of her difficulty when she took her place in 


jean’s difficuety. 


II7 

the church in a seat where she could readily see both 
Lottie and Jack in the choir. 

How often the merest trifle of earth will interfere 
with the workings of the Spirit ! The music, the 
solemnity of the service preparatory for the holy 
communion, the sermon itself — all were lost upon 
Jean. She was wholly occupied with the forma- 
tion of plans to evade Dalton. 

The service was over, and still Jean was at a loss 
to know a way out of her trouble. 

After service Jack approached his sister, accom- 
panied by a portly gentleman, whom Jean recog- 
nized as a friend of her father’s. 

“ Jean, Mr. Kemper is very anxious to see the 
students at dinner, and I asked him to dine with us, 
but I will be late, I am sorry to say. I will leave 
him in your charge.” 

Mr. Kemper, you remember my sister Jean? ” 

“ Certainly — certainly ; she has grown consider- 
ably though,” puffed Mr. Kemper through his fat 
cheeks. 

“ Shall we go now ? ” said Jean, for want of some- 
thing better to say. 

“ Yes ; yes ; as you like.” 

Jean slowly approached Fenwick Hall with her 
charge. She accommodated her gait to his needs 
while ascending the hill on which were the college 


Il8 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

buildings. A happy thought came to her. It was 
a most fortunate circumstance ; she would seat Mr. 
Kemper in her chair at table. That to Jean seemed 
an easy solution at last. 

The students were already in their places in the 
dining-hall when Jean and Mr. Kemper put in their 
appearance. At Jean’s own table all were present 
save Dalton. Jean introduced Mr. Kemper as her 
friend, and left him in her place, and then huriied 
across the room to Dr. Miller’s table, where guests 
were usually seated. 

‘‘Ah, I see ; company at your table ? ” said the 
professor, glancing across to where Mr. Kemper was 
evidently enjoying his surroundings. 

Jean’s heart beat audibly, she thought, when she 
saw Mr. Dalton approach the end of the table where 
Mr. Malan usually sat. Dalton’s face grew very 
red when he found Jean’s chair occupied. Miss 
McKenzie suppressed a smile with difficulty, and 
introduced Mr. Kemper to Dalton as Miss Andrews’ 
friend. Jean saw Elsie and Edna conceal their 
features behind their napkins, while Malan bent low 
over his plate. 

Dr. Miller was enthusiastic over the morning’s 
sermon, and engaged Jean’s attention until after he 
had tapped the rising bell. Together they ap- 
proached Mr. Kemper, and Dr. Miller kindly re- 


jean’s dikficuety. 


II9 

lieved her of further responsibility by asking her 
friend to visit the college library with him. 

When Jean reached her room she found Lottie 
rolling over the carpet and laughing heartily. 

‘‘ Hooray ! Jean, you are all right. Imagine otir 
little Prue doing such a thing ! Served Dalton 
right, though. But, say, where did you get the 
elephant ? ” 

“ Why — who — what ? ” asked Jean. 

“ Oh, now you are sly. Why, that immense 
specimen of humanity that you palmed off on 
Dalton at dinner. Oh ! won’t he be mad ? ” and 
Loftie laughed again. “ You have made your mark. 
Brownie. It was too cute for any use.” 

‘‘ Oh, you mean Mr. Kemper ! Jack wanted me 
to take him in to dinner. Really I see no reason 
to laugh at him ; he is a very nice man, and one of 
father’s friends.” Jean’s eyes flashed the indigna- 
tion which she felt. 

“Yes, of course ! Innocence personified in this 
case. It is the best thing that has happened this 
year so far. Such a joke on Dalton ! We will en- 
joy it all the more since he so richly deserved it,” 
and Lottie laughed even harder than before, much 
to Jean’s annoyance. 

“ By the way, are you going this afternoon, Jean? 


120 


THE WITT AND THE WAY. 


Two attractions : the new minister is to be in- 
stalled, and I am to sing. Yon cannot afford to stay 
away. Someone from up your way is to give the 
charge to the minister.” 

“ Who can it be, Lottie ? ” 

‘‘I do not know his name — a youngish fellow^ 
with green eyes and red hair,” said Lottie. ‘‘ Jack 
knows him. He missed the train last night and 
had to come in on that one o’clock accommodation. 
We were rehearsing for this afternoon when he 
came.” 

Why, it must be Rev. Simons. How dare you 
call his eyes green and his hair red ! He has lovely 
blue eyes, and his hair is almost as dark as mine. I 
am so glad he is here ; I can hear all about home ; 
he promised me that he would go to see them after 
we came away.” 

“ Well, you shall both see and hear him. How 
fortunate that I did not forget to tell you. Now 
adieu,” and Lottie ran off to take her part in the 
afternoon service. 

To Lottie the work which she was doing for the 
church was not altogether a labor of love for the 
Master. She realized how difficult it would be for 
a new minister to procure sufScent suitable music 
for so many services, and readily consented to sing 
during the synodical meetings. It was kindness of 


jean’s difficulty. 


I2I 


heart which made Lottie do the thing which was 
especially distasteful to her — singing in public. 

The fact that Lottie and Jack were to take an 
active part in the services would alone have been 
sufficient reason to take Jean to the meeting ; but 
the possibility of seeing their old friend made her 
more anxious to go, and she decided to take Dick 
with her. 

Jean was very much disappointed when she 
entered the church to find an elderly gentleman at 
Dr. Hegel’s side, back of the pulpit, where she fully 
expected to see the familiar face of Rev. Simons. 
She looked everywhere, but failed to see her friend ; 
Lottie had been mistaken. 

When the president of the Synod announced 
that Dr. Hegel would give the charge to the minis- 
ter and Dr. Simons to the people, Dick was almost 
convulsed with suppressed laughter at Jean’s dis- 
comfiture and displeasure. Lottie had told her that 
he was young and that he had light eyes and red- 
brown hair. Jean soon forgot her indignation, 
however, when the old president, for whom she had 
almost a filial reverence, arose to address them. She 
had already learned to cherish his admonitions in 
chapel. She had never heard him in so scholarly 
an effort as on this particular afternoon, when he 
addressed himself to the minister who had been in 


122 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


charge of the congregation for some weeks, and who 
was now to be regularly installed. Jean had not 
considered it such a weighty matter to stand before 
the people and preach, and that, to her, had summed 
up the pastor’s duties. While the aged president 
talked on concerning the work, and the minister’s 
accountability to both God and man, she began to 
wonder that anyone could undertake so great an 
obligation. At the close of the sermon Jean heard 
the picking of guitar strings, which caused her to 
turn toward the choir. Lottie was standing near 
the organ, music in hand, and then the sweet notes 
rose and fell, filling the room with their sacred mel- 
ody. Jean had not known that Lottie could sing like 
that ; her voice had blended nicely with the other 
voices of the choir ; but now that she sang alone, 
she put into the music a soul of expression entirely 
her own. When the last words died away Jean 
could scarce believe that she had been listening to 
Lottie — ^jolly, fun-loving, madcap Lottie. 

Dr. Simons slowly arose, and, standing before his 
audience, he quoted his text. While Dr. Hegel had 
been speaking Jean thought that the great impor- 
tance of a pastor’s duty would weigh heavily upon 
him, and she had wondered that anyone should 
choose to go into the ministry, and when Dr. Simons 
spoke of the frequent lack of appreciation which fell 


jean’s difeicuety. 


123 


to the minister’s hard lot, Jean wondered still more 
that there should be a ministry under such trying 
circumstances. 

She had entirely forgotten her disappointment in 
not seeing her friend, the Rev. Simons, whom she 
had known. Jean did not notice what a serious 
look Dick’s usually smiling countenance wore, 
while he listened to the enthusiastic and earnest 
charge to the congregation. 

The benediction had been pronounced, and the 
people were beginning to disperse, when a familiar 
voice greeted them : 

“ How are you, Dick, my boy? How do you do, 
Miss Andrews ? ” 

Surely this was their Rev. Simons, and both Jean 
and Dick enjoyed the meeting the more because of 
their previous disappointment. 

We came, thinking that you were to preach,” 
said Jean. 

Oh, no ! Not I, for such a sermon. I am not 
ordained yet.” 

^‘Not ordained!” exclaimed Jean; ‘‘why I 
thought you were a minister when you passed your 
examinations, just as a lawyer or a doctor commences 
to practice after he has been examined.” 

“No, Jean. I am a graduate from the Theolog- 
ical Seminary, if that is your meaning. That may 


124 


THE WIEE and the WAY. 


or may not signify my mental qualifications, but it 
is not ordination. Ordination is the sacred act of 
setting aside for the ministry the candidate called 
to the work. The ministry is unlike other profes- 
sions in this respect. God calls those whom He 
would have in His service. So many mistakes 
have been made that I resolved to wait with my re- 
quest for ordination until I know that I am fitted 
for the holy office.” Rev. Simons spoke so earn- 
estly, so reverentially that Jean did not reply. 

‘‘ Do you mean that you may yet change your 
profession?” asked Dick. 

“No, Dick. With God’s help I will be fit for 
His work some time. If I am not ready now, it is 
because I myself am lacking in so many essential 
qualities. I will cultivate my needs and fit myself 
for the sacred trust.” 

“ How can you work so hard to fill a place in a 
profession where you are so little appreciated?” 
asked Jean. “ The sermons this afternoon would 
have discouraged almost anyone having the min- 
istry in mind.” 

“ Why, Jean ! I never felt more encouraged and 
never had a greater longing to become all that a 
minister should be. Your point of view must have 
been wrong,” said the young man. 

“ Dr. Simons said that pastors were frequently 


jean’s difficulty. 125 

unjustly handled, and that their services were not 
always paid for,” said Jean. 

“ That is true when we consider mere dollars and 
cents, but God’s children seldom want for the neces- 
sities of life, and God’s pay never fails. But come, 
you must meet my father, and I trust that he may 
soon convince you that the ministry is not so bad.” 

Dick and Jean were anxious to meet the father 
of the friend who had helped them both so much. 

Jack and Lottie joined them shortly after, and 
together they started for the college. Jack and 
Rev. Simons went off together ; Dick naturally 
walked at Lottie’s side, leaving Jean and Dr. Simons 
to bring up the rear. They walked slowly, enjoy- 
ing the beauty of the October day. . The subject of 
the ministry was not referred to again. 

The college bell rang before they reached the 
campus, and soon students were coming from all di- 
rections. Just as they approached the outside en- 
trance to the hall the tap of the little silver bell, for 
grace, caused them to halt. Inside the dining-room, 
Jack glanced toward Dr. Miller’s table, where he 
had expected to seat his friends. Every chair was 
occupied. 

“ There are two vacant places at my table for 
Jean and Dick,” said Lottie. Jack nodded ap- 
proval, and seated Rev. Simons in Dick’s chair. 


126 


THK WII.Iv AND THE WAY. 


leaving Jean to give up her place to the doctor. 
Dalton was already in Malan’s place. There was 
no help for Jean. She was painfully conscious of 
the construction which would be put upon her act 
by the entire party, and the blood rushed to her 
temples as she introduced Dr. Simons. Miss 
McKenzie made an effort to appear calm. Dalton, 
with livid countenance, was very intent upon his 
food. A suppressed titter from Elsie made further 
restraint impossible. The reverend gentleman was 
greeted with peals of laughter. 

Jean was indignant. She felt that it was ex- 
tremely rude of her friends to receive Dr. Simona 
thus. She was reassured, however, as she turned 
an appealing look toward Miss McKenzie, to hear 
her apologize in her sweet way for their seeming 
lack of civility, offering as an explanation that Dr. 
Simons had been made the unfortunate victim of a 
college joke. 

Dr. Simons had been a college boy himself, and 
had a most appreciative nature, and a little later 
Jean was delighted to see ‘‘ her table ” eagerly lis- 
tening to the old gentleman’s account of his own 
college experiences. 

Jean and Eottie passed out of the room just as 
Jean saw Dalton approaching. She halted, wishing 
to explain her conduct, for she could not have even 


jean’s dieeicuety. 


127 

Dalton think her capable of so mean an act. Dalton 
passed her without even a glance of recognition. 

“ Come, Jean, don’t stand there as if you had com- 
mitted some crime. Surely you are not going to 
apologize to Dalton ? Dalton deserves all that he 
got, and more, too,” and Lottie whirled her off to 
their room. 

Jean had no desire to go to church that night. 
In the seclusion of her own room she took herself 
severely to task for her thoughtlessness. She did 
not enjoy Lottie’s version of her act ; she did not 
care to spare herself, but, none the less, she knew 
that she could not willfully be guilty of so base a 
deed. She remembered that other girls did not 
make such mistakes ; they had come in contact 
with people before coming here ; and then there 
crept into her heart the old bitter feeling — it was 
not her mother’s helplessness, but her mother’s re- 
ligion, that had placed the barriers around her. 

Jean’s head dropped on her hands, and she wept 
bitter tears of regret. 

Again the influences which might have reached 
her were turned to naught by the memories of her 
childhood. 


CHAPTER XIIL 


THE EVENING WITH MISS MEIEE. 

“ Spurn not the call to life and light ; 

Regard in time the warning kind ; 

That call thou mayst not always slight, 

And yet the gate of mercy find. ’ ’ 

— Hyde, 

Jean sat alone by the window in the moonlight. 
The church bells chimed musically, but it did not 
lessen the bitterness of her thoughts. She tried to 
put every memory of the day far from her ; she 
longed to go home and hide from the world beneath 
the paternal roof. She dreaded to see Jack in the 
morning ; she magnified her own interpretation of 
what she termed her contemptible rudeness until it 
seemed to her that she could never meet her class- 
mates again. 

It was in this frame of mind that Miss Meile 
found her, and, taking her hand, she gently raised 
her from the low rocker, and said : 

‘‘ Come, Jean. I have a cheerful fire. You are 
homesick, I am afraid.” And they went down the 
deserted hall and entered the fire-lit room. 

(128) 


THE EVENING WITH MISS MEIEE. 1 29 

‘‘Now we are all alone. You may arrange the 
china on the small table, while I make the tea. I 
have a nice box of good things which were sent in 
from the country. I cannot enjoy them alone. 
Katie will be here presently also. Poor child ! 
She is fading with the leaves. Have you noticed, 
Jean, how frail our little one has grown of late? ” 

Jean had noticed it and had also seen the anxious 
look upon Dr. Miller’s face. Little Katie’s familiar 
voice was seldom heard in the halls now, and her 
chair at her father’s table was usually vacant. The 
girls vied with each other in ministering to her 
wants, but none were more devoted than Jean and 
Lottie. 

To have a quiet hour with Katie and Miss Meile 
was balm to Jean’s wounds, and she soon forgot her 
own troubles, in a measure, while busying herself 
with the preparations for the little supper. 

Katie came, with her cheerful smile, bravely try- 
ing to conceal her sufferings from her friends. 

The tea table was drawn up before the fire, and 
Katie was made as comfortable as possible. How 
rapidly the time passed in Miss Meile’s room. No 
reference was made to Jean’s troubles or Katie’s ill- 
ness, and both girls seemed happy in forgetfulness. 

“ This is Home Mission night at the church, is it 
not. Miss Meile?” asked Katie. 

9 


130 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

‘‘Yes, I believe it is. I suppose I should have 
gone ; and yet Sunday night always finds someone 
needing me here. I find plenty of Home Mission 
work on the campus,” said Miss Meile. 

“It is pleasant to be a heathen when you are the 
missionary. Miss Meile,” said Jean. “I am sure 
that if anything could ever make a Christian of me 
it would be constant association with you and 
Katie.” 

“Jean, constant association with Christians can 
awaken within you a desire to become a Christian 
also, but there is a Friend who is nearer than any 
earthly friend, whom you must receive and love 
before you can become a Christian.” 

It was the first time that Miss Meile had spoken 
thus to Jean, and the girl was at a loss to know how 
to answer. 

“ He is your friend, Jean,” continued Miss Meile ; 
“ He will help you, if you will only let Him. He 
is waiting to make the rough places smooth and to 
lighten the trials of your life.” 

Katie reached over and clasped Jean’s hand 
within her own ; a gentle pressure assured Jean of 
sympathy. 

In Jean’s mind there was a strange combat. The 
old bitter feeling against religion was mingled with 
a longing to know the peace and joy of her friends’ 


THE EVENING WITH MISS MEIEE. 131 

lives. To be good and to do good were her 
highest aspirations ; she had failed in her own 
strength, and was almost persuaded to yield herself 
to this new influence which pervaded the school. 
The Spirit had knocked repeatedly at her heart for 
entrance ; but she had hardened herself and had 
never yielded. 

The many hours spent in Katie’s room had not 
been without effect, however, and Jean often felt 
herself longing for that better part which her 
friends had chosen. Slowly, though unconsciously, 
she had grown less bitter against the religion of her 
friends, and once or twice she had even found her- 
self excusing Neighbor Allen’s behavior. She felt 
sorry for him, that he had never known this other 
better religion which her schoolmates possessed. 
Jean had frequented the prayer meetings, and she 
knew the meaning of Miss Meile’s words ; had she 
followed the impulse of her heart, she would have 
thrown herself into the arms of her friend and 
sobbed out the whole story of her failings ; but 
Jean was too proud to yield, even for one moment. 

“Did you enjoy the morning service, Jean?” 
asked Katie. 

“ I am sorry to confess, Katie, that I heard but 
little of it,” replied Jean. 

“ You were not late? ” 


132 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


‘‘No, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I know 
that it is something to be ashamed of, but I do not 
know that I could have helped it at the time,” 
replied Jean. 

“ I like your candor, Jean. It would have been 
the polite thing to say that you enjoyed it ever so 
much ; but if you did not hear it, you certainly did 
not enjoy it,” laughed Miss Meile. 

“ I did enjoy Lottie’s singing this afternoon,” said 
Jean. 

“ Lottie sings with her soul. I can always tell 
when Lottie is moved by the manner in which she 
sings. I never heard her sing as she sang that old 
hymn this afternoon ; it carried us all heavenward,” 
said Miss Meile. 

“ I heard papa say this evening that he believed 
that there was some work for Lottie — some special 
work. He said that he had never known such 
depth of soul and such sterling character combined 
with such a genuine fun-loving disposition as Lottie 
possesses,” remarked Katie. 

“ Lottie certainly has her own way of stealing 
into our hearts and lashing us for our faults. I 
shall watch her career with interest,” said Miss 
Meile. 

“She is a member of the church, is she not?” 
asked Katie. 


THE EVENING WITH MISS MEIEE. 1 33 

‘‘Yes, Lottie is a member of the church, and ren- 
ders strict obedience to the letter of the law rather 
than to the spirit,’’ answered Miss Meile. 

“ What do you mean by the letter of the law. Miss 
Meile,” asked Jean. 

“ There are Christians, Jean, who do not realize 
the full joy of a Christian life, simply because they 
learn to regard religion as a task-master. They 
know the Father only as the stern Ruler over all, to 
whom they must render strict obedience. Their 
view is right, but at the same time the Lord is a 
loving Father, ready to reward us with a fullness of 
love which renders His service a pleasure. If the 
Spirit dwells within us, we will render that same 
obedience. One of the first fruits of the Spirit is 
a submissive will ; but there will also be a joy in 
the service which obedience to the letter alone can- 
not bring.” 

“ Miss Meile, I have thought that I would like to 
be the kind of Christian that you are, but I do not 
believe that I could ever be one-half so good. You 
seem incapable of doing wrong, whereas I can never 
do just what is right. I am sure that I would make 
a failure if I were to attempt it,” said Jean. 

“Jean, that is where you are mistaken. I must 
constantly be upon my guard lest I do that which I 
would not. As long as we have the flesh to contend 


134 wibb and the way. 

with, we Vv^ill have to suffer because of our weak- 
nesses and errors. Of course, we become stronger 
as we grow in grace, and as we increase in faith we 
increase in good works. The first fruits of the 
Spirit, according to the order in which the apostle 
names them, are love, joy, and peace ; they are ours 
readily when we yield ourselves to Christ ; but the 
remaining fruits — long-suffering, gentleness, good- 
ness, faith, meekness, and temperance — come only 
by constant exercise of all the spiritual attributes 
which we possess.” 

Miss Meile paused. Katie still held Jean’s hand 
in her own, but was too timid to say the things she 
so longed to say. But Katie had that faith which 
reaches out to God and asks, believing that it will 
be rewarded. While Miss Meile was talking to 
Jean, white-winged messengers were bearing Katie’s 
silent petitions before the throne for the salvation 
of her friend. 

“Jean, with all your good qualities of mind and 
heart, you would become a power for good if you 
could but yield yourself to the whisperings of the 
Spirit,” continued Miss Meile. “You would be so 
much happier in every way. May heaven help you 
to make the choice.” 

Dr. Miller entered the room. He was on his way 
home from church, and had come for Katie. He 


THE EVENING WITH MISS MEIEE. 1 35 

made one of their party for a short time, and took 
the tea which Jean made for him. She had assisted 
Miss Meile so often that she was no longer afraid to 
handle the dainty china, but rather loved to touch 
and hold it. 

“ The sermon was one which you should have 
heard. Miss Meile. If I were a young man again, 
I believe I should feel myself called to the fron- 
tier,” said Dr. Miller, as he sipped his tea. 
“Truly the harvest is great and the laborers 
few.” 

“You have no lack of opportunities for mission 
work here. Dr. Miller. Your influence upon the 
lives of our youth will go far toward sending men 
to the front,” said Miss Meile. “ I believe we are 
in our positions because God saw fit to place us 
here, and that He needs us just where we are. I 
believe that your work and mine lies here rather 
than on the prairies.” 

“No doubt you are right, but a sermon like that 
to-night m.akes one feel like doing something more 
energetic,” replied the doctor. 

“ Come, Katie ; I am afraid late hours will not 
help my pet lamb regain her strength. Jean, you 
must come over more frequently. Katie is lonely 
when I am away.” 

The doctor assisted Katie with her wraps, bade 


136 


THE WILE and the WAY. 


their friends good-night, and again Jean and Miss 
Meile were alone by the fireside. 

In the heart-to-heart talk which followed, Miss 
Meile learned all Jean’s troubles. Her kindly, 
loving sympathy did much toward winning Jean 
for the Master. 

Almost, but not quite, she was ready to yield her- 
self in faith believing ; almost, but not quite, ready 
to accept the promises and to take upon herself His 
name. 

Jean was surrounded by a body of Christian 
friends who dearly loved her, and whose prayers in 
her behalf, together with the infiuence of their lives, 
were sure to win in the conflict. She had hardened 
herself against selfish religious influences, but it was 
not in her nature long to resist the loving solicitude 
of Katie and Miss Meile. 

When she left Miss Meile’s room she had been 
quieted and comforted. Her friend’s advice had 
prepared her for the morrow, and Jean resolved to 
make no more mistakes. But, alas ! it was still in 
her own strength that she fortified herself with 
resolutions. She had yet to learn how to depend 
upon the Father in the daily combat of life. 

Jean found that Lottie had gone to spend the 
night with Katie. The quiet of her room was 
suited to her mental state. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


DICK SEEKS THE TRUTH. 

If circumstances lead me, I will find 
Where truth is hid, though it were 
Hid indeed within the centre/^ 

— Shakespeare, 

Dick Andrews had grown up unbiased toward 
religion. His mother’s faith did not appeal to him, 
but it had not hardened him against the influences 
of the Christian school, whither a kindly provi- 
dence had directed him. 

Dick had aspired thus far only to a thorough 
preparation for some useful sphere in life. He had 
not decided upon a profession. Both medicine and 
law had suggested themselves, but he had wisely 
determined upon a full college course as a necessary 
preparation for either. 

He was a thorough student, and was ranked high 
by both professors and classmates. In athletic 
sports he was a favorite, and his genial disposition 
and manly bearing had won for him the good-will 
of his fellow-students. 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


138 

Dick’s aims were high. No mediocre effort could 
satisfy him. His time at college was too precious 
to be wasted. On the wall of his room he had 
painted in college colors the words : 

‘‘Study Hours Strictly Obskrvrd Hrrk.” 

After the lessons for the following day had been 
learned, no one in the whole dormitory was more 
ready for good, wholesome fun, and no one more 
thoroughly enjoyed a good joke than Dick An- 
drews. 

Dick, like Jack, soon became very popular, and 
was respected by all who chanced to know him ; 
but, more than that, he was loved by all his com- 
panions. Jack, while friendly to all, had been ex- 
clusive in the choice of friends ; he was kind to 
ever^^one, but confined him*self to a select few 
socially. Dick was everybody’s friend. The lonely, 
homesick boys were his especial charge, and more 
than once during his short stay at college Dick had 
championed the cause of the unsophisticated youth 
from the rural district, and had helped him over the 
hard j)laces by teaching him the things which he 
most needed to know, instead of ridiculing him for 
his ignorance. 

With his unselfish nature, his noble character, 
and his ready intellect, Dick Andrews was the 


DICK SEEKS THE TRUTH. 1 39 

potentiality of a great and good man, whatever his 
career might be. 

There is a providence which shapes our lives and 
surrounds us with influences which will lead ns, if 
w^e will be led, to what He would have us be. 
Among Dick’s classmates there was one with whom 
he was especially intimate, and by whom he v/as 
greatly • influenced. 

Karl Richards was also a freshman. Karl had 
already decided upon his life’s work. He was 
unusually fortunate in having an intelligent Chris- 
tian mother, able to give him his preparation for 
college. His mother had early taught him that the 
highest ambition was to do good to our fellow-men, 
and that the highest possible good that anyone 
could do was to lead others to Christ. Karl’s one 
plan for the future was to take up the work, from 
which an early death had called his father, and had 
delighted his mother’s heart, and had won for him- 
self a serenity of mind possessed by few of his age 
by his decision. 

Dick and Karl found each other’s society very 
congenial, and spent much of their leisure time 
together. Many times they talked about the possi- 
bilities of their future. Dick was wonderfully 
affected by Karl’s sincere desire to do good, and his 
conviction that the ministry was his calling. The 


140 THE WILE AND THE WAY. 

reverence with which he spoke of things divine 
caused Dick to revere them also. Karl’s mother 
had not confined her son’s training to the prepara- 
tory school curriculum, which she followed. With 
his other work she had given him a biblical train- 
ing enjoyed by few older heads. 

The regular chapel exercises, where each morn- 
ing some truth was briefly but forcibly presented, 
were not lost on Dick. His daily association with 
Lottie, whose sole aim seemed to be to help others, 
and who so thoroughly despised pretense, in any 
form, also affected him. 

Dick was in a proper frame of mind to receive 
and to be impressed by the masterly effort of Dr. 
Hegel that Sunday afternoon. That the ministry 
was beset with difficulties, and that there were 
thorns to wear more frequently than laurels, did not 
turn him from contemplating a profession in which 
he could be of service to mankind. Dr. Hegel had 
said that the pastor who lived in constant commu- 
nion with the Lord was a greater power for good 
and made fewer mistakes than the somewhat self- 
sufficient pastor. 

Dick wondered how one could have such com- 
munion. The desire to know and understand more 
about the religion of his best friends, and the long- 
ing to possess that which would enable him to do 


DICK SEEKS THE TRUTH. 141 

the most good, were reasons sufficient for his 
earnest invitation to Rev. Simons to spend the time 
after supper with him in his room. 

Rev. Simons was about to decline Dick’s invita- 
tion, but something in the boy’s face and manner 
changed his mind, and, after leaving his father with 
Dr. Hegel, he found his way to the dormitory. 

The hour was far too short for all that Dick 
wanted to know and learn. Never did a more 
teachable disciple sit at the Master’s feet than Dick 
Andrews. He longed to know how he might be- 
come good in order that he could do good. His 
pastor and friend, with heart overflowing with 
thanksgiving to his Lord because of the working of 
the Spirit in the heart of his young friend, care- 
fully and prayerfully led him to the knowledge of 
the love of Christ. With gentleness and tact Dick 
was guided over the rocks of moral goodness, where 
so many crafts are wrecked, and safely anchored in 
the harbor of God’s love, where deeds and impulses 
are good and noble because their motive is eternal 
love. 

Dick accompanied Rev. Simons to the evening 
service in a somewhat disturbed frame of mind. 
The sermon, on the needs of our Western missions, 
was an eloquent appeal for helpers in the harvest of 
souls. In the name of the Elder Brother, who came 


142 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


from heaven to earth to bring the Gospel to nian^ 
the secretary of the Church Board called for volun- 
teers, who would be ready to consecrate their lives 
to His service — to carry His message to the isolated 
believers, and to souls which had not learned of 
Christ. 

That sermon was long to live in the memory of 
Dick Andrews. 

Rev. Simons had noticed how intently Dick had 
listened to the speaker’s words, and when the 
earnest plea was over and the benediction had been 
pronounced, without waiting to introduce him to 
the entire clergy — a mistake so many m.ake in sim- 
ilar cases — he slipped his arm through Dick’s and 
drew him away from the church and down a quiet 
lane. The two friends were silent for some mo- 
ments. Rev. Simons’ heart was uplifted in prayer 
for guidance. 

“ Well, Dick, did the sermon help you to- 
night?” asked the minister. 

“ It was truly fine, and gave me something to 
think about,” answered Dick. 

“ It gave us all much food for serious thought,” 
cautiously replied the minister. 

‘‘ I was wondering while he was talking whether 
a mission preacher could do more good than a 
Christian doctor or a Christian lawyer? ” said Dick. 


DICK SEEKS THE TRUTH. 


143 


Rev. Simons had hoped to see Dick enter the 
ministry, but he regarded the calling of a Christian 
physician as sacred also, and the Christian lawyer 
had unbounded opportunity for doing good. Dick’s 
qualities of mind and heart were such as would 
make of him an efficient worker in any cause. 

“ I am afraid that you are worrying about results, 
and are considering the nature of the work rather 
than your fitness for it. Dick, can you not, through 
faith, receive the qualifications necessary for the 
Master’s service ? ” 

The minister spoke calmly, fearing lest he might 
startle Dick. 

“ Here, Dick,” continued Rev. Simons, taking a 
small book from a side-pocket, ‘‘is a little book 
which I will leave wdth you. It is only a cate- 
chism, but one that I have used very carefully. 
There are many interlinear notes, which I trust you 
will read. I will not press this matter to-night — I 
will remember you before the Father — and, Dick, 
learn to do the same for yourself. Go to Him in 
confidence and hope. Look up all the references in 
the little book. The devout study of God’s word 
will lead to Christ.” 

The two friends resumed their walk in silence. 
The stars looked on pityingly — a soul was halting 
and trembling on the eve of its salvation. 


144 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


In silence they continued to walk toward the 
campus — Dick busy with his own thoughts, and 
the minister secretly praying for his friend. 

At the entrance to the dormitory they halted. 
The minister grasped Dick’s hand, and with voice 
trembling with emotion pronounced the benediction: 

“ The Eord bless and keep thee. 

‘ ‘ The Eord make His face to shine upon thee and be gracious 
unto thee. 

‘ ‘ The Eord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee 
peace. Amen.” 

And, turning, he walked hurriedly away. Dick 
entered his room and threw himself upon a couch 
and tried to get a clear idea of what his friend had 
said to him during the walk, and, being reminded of 
the little book, he rose and lighted his lamp and 
seated himself at the table to learn the way of sal- 
vation by a diligent study of the word. 

Dick was deeply absorbed in the study of Bible 
references when Karl entered. 

“ Why, Dick, have you forgotten that this is Sun- 
day ? ” asked Karl. Pardon me, I see you have a 

Bible, and a — yes — a catechism. I thought you 
were studying for to-morrow.” 

“ It is a book Rev. Simons left for me. I suppose 
you have seen one before,” said Dick, holding up 
the little catechism so that Karl could see it. 


DICK SEEKS THE TRUTH. 


145 


“ Yes ; I committed the contents of that little 
book, Dick, before I could read, and then I was cat- 
echised daily by my mother until my confirmation. 
I do not believe there is a single definition which I 
cannot see just as it is in my own little book.” 

Dick looked at Karl steadily, but did not speak. 
He was wondering how it could be that a book 
which had entered so largely into his friend’s edu- 
cation had never been suggested to him before. 

‘‘And, then,” continued Karl, “ Dr. Hegel’s talks 
to our Ministerial Band are along that line also.” 

“You have really decided to become a minister, 
Karl,” asked Dick. 

“Yes. That is, so far as I am able to decide at 
present,” quietly answered Karl. 

“You can do more good then by preaching from 
the pulpit ? ” asked Dick. 

“ I am glad you put that in. If I were to preach 
from the pulpit alone, I could do but little good. I 
trust that my life may emphasize the lessons which 
I may try to teach. My mother says that we are 
all preachers. But I do believe, Dick, that a minis- 
ter can do more good than he could in any other 
line of work.” 

“ Dr. Hegel told us last Sunday,” continued Karl, 
“ that the crying need of the age is a scholarly min- 
istry — able to cope with the so-called higher critics, 
10 


146 THE WIEL AND THE WAY. 

who would feign destroy the book upon which our 
religion is founded.” 

“ If the Bible is true, why should you fear higher 
critics ? ” interrupted Dick. 

‘‘ The Bible is true, and we do not fear just criti- 
cism. Just criticism from a Christian scholar’s 
standpoint will only strengthen our faith in the 
authenticity of the book, but there are few men 
who combine all the qualities necessary for such 
criticism.” Karl spoke enthusiastically. 

‘‘ But I am interrupting you, Dick,” he said, 
‘‘and to no purpose. You will hear more from Dr. 
Hegel upon this subject.” And Karl was about to 
leave the room. 

“Stay, Karl; while we are talking upon this 
subject, I want to tell you about the lecture I heard 
the other night on the ‘ Nebular Hypothesis.’ The 
lecturer ridiculed the biblical version of the crea- 
tion.” 

“ I heard that lecture, too, Dick, and I am glad 
you mentioned it. That was a good illustration of 
my point. The lecturer plainly showed that he did 
not understand Genesis. The whole line of evidence 
in scientific research goes to prove the story of the 
creation in Genesis. Genesis does not tell us how God 
created the earth, nor does it deny that even the 
nebular theory may be correct ; however, a theory it 


DICK SEEKS THE TRUTH. 


147 


must remain until science proves not that it was pos- 
sible — for all things are possible with the Creator — 
but that it is a fact. What the lecturer said, when he 
touched upon evolution, showed ignorance of his 
own theory.” Karl talked rapidly and earnestly. 

Have you read much along such lines ? ” Dick 
asked. 

“ Some. My mother believes that a minister 
should be thoroughly conversant with the scientific 
theories which he may encounter, and we read and 
discussed them. Mother had had considerable 
scientific training and still has a very good library 
which she uses freely.” 

“And do you believe in evolution, Karl? ” 

“ I do not know that I do or that I do not. So 
long as there is only a chain of missing links the 
theory of physical evolution cannot be proven. The 
theory of the evolution of ideas appeals to me, how- 
ever,” answered Karl. 

“What can an evolution of ideas be?” asked 
Dick. “ That is a new theory to me.” 

Karl looked pleased, as he answered : “Of course, 
no one would deny that a physical evolution could 
have been possible with the Creator, with whom all 
things are possible. But that specific and instanta- 
neous creations were also possible no one would deny. 
It is a plausible philosophy which holds that a crea- 


148 THE V/IEE AND THE WAY. 

ture embodies the idea of the Creator ; and to me 
the evolution of ideas, embodying the structural 
similarities which science clearly shows, giving an 
ideal rather than a physical relationship, seems not 
only possible but also probable.” 

Then you believe in specific creation?” asked 
Dick. 

‘‘Why not?” answered Karl. “Though I did 
not say that I believed any particular theory, I 
said it was possible, and, to me, seemed probable. 
It is a subject which years of study and investiga- 
tion may leave in a state of uncertainty. I believe 
that God intended that we should not knov/ all 
things until we see ‘ face to face.’ 

“It is narrow to take such a decided stand, as 
did the lecturer, on any subject concerning which 
science has revealed so little. It is growing very 
late,” said Karl, looking at his watch. “Good- 
night, Dick ; I must go.” 

Dick sat gazing into the flame of the lamp for 
some time after the door closed behind Karl. His 
friend had opened up much that was new to him, 
and was a timely counter-action to the influence of 
the lecture to which Dick had listened. Karl had 
chosen his words wisely. To have given Dick An- 
drews a narrow denial, with no other reason than 
that the “ Bible said so,” would not have satisfied 


DICK SEEKS The truth. 


149 


his inquiring mind ; but the suggestion of a still 
wider field for thought, with the evidence of a little 
knowledge on the subject, directed him into safer 
channels. Dick’s honesty of purpose would lead 
him to an investigation of even the well-worn 
Christian truths before he could accept them as his 
own. 

Karl understood Dick’s nature, and he did not 
rely upon argument alone to convince his friend. 
He had early learned to accept by faith that higher 
intelligence which does not yield to reason, but 
readily responds to the prayers of the believing. 

From Dick’s room he went to the further end of 
the hall, where the light shone through the* tran- 
som and indicated that the inmates had not yet 
retired. 

“Where have you been, Karl? You are not 
usually so late,” asked the boy who opened the door 
in response to his knock. 

“ In Dick Andrews’ room. Boys, I know it is 
late, but Dick needs us. Let us pray for him. Let 
the prayers be informal but earnest,” and, suiting 
his action to his request, Karl fell upon his knees, 
and was readily followed by the others. There 
arose to the throne above such earnest petitions for 
guidance and help in Dick’s struggle for light, that 
the messenger angels must have felt that the very 


150 THE WILL and the WAY. 

fervor of the prayers would bring an immediate 
response. 

Dick, all unconscious of the influences at work 
in his behalf, had taken up his Bible and was read- 
ing Genesis in the light of Karl’s interpretation. 


CHAPTER XV. 


HARRY TURNER. 

“ Even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, 
but to minister.” — Bible. 

Jean had passed through the ordeal of meeting 
her table companions at breakfast. Miss McKenzie 
had most skillfully relieved the embarrassment and 
had drawn forth both Jean and Mr. Dalton in con- 
versation when, with a triumphant flourish, Mr. 
Malan produced the marshmallows which were Mr. 
Dalton’s forfeit. Edna and Elsie hailed them with 
such evident satisfaction that all restraint was lost 
in the thorough enjoyment of the situation — even 
Mr. Dalton laughed heartily. Jean could not look 
up, but silently waited for the signal when she 
could make good her escape. 

The class rooms were no less discomfiting. 
Everywhere she met Mr. Dalton, and Edna’s and 
Elsie’s swift glances across the room were not 
wasted upon her. 

When at last she was free for the forenoon, she 

(151) 


152 THE WILE AND THE WAY. 

started out aimlessly with her books under her arm. 
She took the maple-bordered walk, which led her 
to the edge of the forest, where she had gone 
several times before with Jack. The many-hued 
autumn leaves crackled under her feet, and the wind 
sighed through the branches of the trees as if in 
sympathy with her mood. 

The solitude of the woods allured Jean. A 
stream, with the dignified name of “river,’’ fiowed 
swiftly over its rocky bed. She seated herself upon 
the bank near a boat which was lashed to a tree,, 
and amused herself by tossing pebbles into the 
water. A desire to use the boat came over her, and 
she examined the fastenings and found them un- 
locked, but one oar was missing. She seated her- 
self in the tiny craft and pushed av/ay from the 
shore. She succeeded in getting out into the cur- 
rent, but the oar was wrenched from her hands, and 
she was left with no means of controlling the boat. 

Perfectly at ease in the water, Jean had no fears 
for her safety ; she hoped to secure some piece of 
driftwood, by means of which she could guide the 
boat ashore. It was a vain hope, and she was borne 
rapidly down the stream with the current until she 
saw, at some distance ahead, in the middle of the 
river, in a place where the channel narrowed, a huge 
boulder rearing its head above the divided waters^ 


HARRY TURNER. 


153 


which lashed themselves into fury against the rock. 
A large tree had been felled upon the bank and lay 
with its top extending in the water. Jean caught 
one of the branches, hoping to stay the boat there- 
by. The little craft was wrenched away by the 
current, and she found herself clinging to the tree. 
She drew herself up on to the trunk and reached 
the shore without difficulty, but not before she had 
seen the boat dash against the rock and bound 
aside, to be tossed to and fro by the boiling waters, 
and finally drift again with the current. 

Jean was again in trouble. She found herself on 
the opposite shore from the college, and it might be 
miles, for aught she knew, to the nearest crossing. 
She deeply regretted the rashness of her act. Her 
feet and skirts were wet and she shivered with cold. 

‘‘ I beg your pardon, miss. You seem to be in 
trouble. Can I be of any assistance?” Jean 
looked up into the honest blue eyes of a young man 
in a shooting jacket, with a rifle over his shoulder. 

“ I came from the college, and I do not know 
how to get back,” she stammered. 

“ Did you come by the road ? ” he asked. 

“No,” said Jean. “I had a boat, but it got 
away from me and drifted down the stream.” 

“ Well, you are in a predicament. It is about 
two miles to the nearest bridge. If you will permit 


154 'i'he wiel and the way. 

me, I will show you the way. I am going there 
myself. My name is Harry Turner, and I was for- 
merly from the college also.” 

‘‘ Harry Turner ! Then you are one of Jack’s 
friends,” said Jean joyfully. 

Jack Andrews? Yes, indeed.” 

‘‘ I am Jack Andrews’ sister,” said Jean. 

“ Then I am very fortunate. You are cold. Miss 
Andrews, and we must not wait here longer,” said 
Jack’s friend. “ I am sorry, but there is no other 
way ; you will have to walk as far as the bridge ; 
that would be better than to have you wait here 
alone.” 

The walk was not nearly so tiresome or so long 
as it would have been for Jean alone. Harry 
Turner knew the way, and he carefully guided her 
around the rough places, and did not follow the 
winding river bank, but took a more direct route. 

The young man left Jean by the roadside near the 
bridge, and hastened to enter a little cabin at some 
distance from where she waited. 

Jean saw a man come out and mount a little 
pony which had been hobbled near the cabin, and 
ride rapidly toward the town. 

“We will have a carriage soon,” said Harry, 
when he returned to where Jean was sitting. 

“ I do not believe that I could have found my 


HARRY TURNER. 


155 


way out of that wood if you had not chanced to 
come along just when you did,” said Jean, grate- 
fully. 

I was out hunting ; by mere accident I came 
this way,” mused the young man. “ I am very 
glad that I could be of some service to you. Jack 
was my roommate two years ago, and he was very 
kind to me always.” 

‘‘ I did not know that you were here this year,” 
said Jean. 

‘‘ I came in Saturday, but decided to take a few 
days off before getting down to work again.” 

Jean knew that Harry Turner was also earning 
his own way through college, and did not wonder 
at his reply. Jack had spoken of him so frequently 
and so kindly that she felt as if she had met an old 
friend instead of a stranger whom she had never 
seen before, 

“ How far are we from town?” finally asked Jean. 

“ Not more than one mile,” replied Harry. ‘‘ I 
thought you would rather ride, though,” he added, 
hesitatingly. 

Jean laughed and looked at her dress. “ I am in 
a sorry plight,” she said. 

The carriage wheels grated in the sand and then 
rumbled on the bridge. 

‘‘ Here we are ! ” exclaimed Harry to Jean. 


156 THE WILE AND THE WAY. 

“Now drive to Fenwick Hall,” he said to the 
driver as he helped Jean into the carriage and seated 
himself at her side. 

Miss Meile saw them drive up to the entrance^ 
and when the bell rang for Fila she answered it 
in person. 

“ Why, Harry Turner ; such a surprise ! I knew 

you were to be here shortly, but ” and Miss 

Meile glanced at Jean, whom Harry was assisting 
to alight, “ I cannot understand where you met 
Miss Andrews.” 

“ Miss Andrews must not wait here while I ex- 
plain. I will call this evening, with your permis- 
sion, Miss Meile, to learn how the young lady 
recovers from her adventure. Good-afternoon, la- 
dies,” and, with a wave of his hand, Harry was off 
into the carriage again, and was driven rapidly away. 

Jean was soon installed in the large easy-chair 
by Miss Meile’s fire. Dry garments and a hot cup 
of tea from the china cup had completely restored 
her, and she told Miss Meile everything, com- 
mencing with her experience of the morning. 

“ It was Providence that sent Harry Turner to 
the river ! ” exclaimed Miss Meile. “ You would 
have wandered about all afternoon in your wet 
clothing, and we would not have known where to 
look for you.” 


HARRY TURNER. 


157 


Seated by the fire, in her pretty red house-dress, 
Jean was in decided contrast with the girl whom 
Harry Turner had rescued from the woods in the 
afternoon, and he paused upon the threshold to ad- 
mire the picture before making his presence knovm. 

I met Lila at the door, and thought I might 
presume to enter unannounced,” he said, as he ad- 
vanced to shake hands with Miss Meile. 

^‘Are you quite rested from the effects of your 
outing. Miss Andrews ? ” said Harry, with a mis- 
chievous look in his blue eyes. 

‘‘ Quite, thank you,” replied Jean, as she ex- 
tended her hand. 

“ Jack has gone in search of you to thank you 
for your kindness this afternoon to his sister, Harry. 
He will no doubt be back shortly. Tell us how you 
happened to be out in the woods so soon after your 
arrival. We had not even learned that you were 
among us,” said Miss Meile. 

‘‘ I had been so closely confined all summer and 
fall that I decided to take several days’ rest before 
commencing work again. I took to the woods, 
naturally, and chanced to come up the river just in 
time to render Miss Andrews assistance. Not much 
to tell, is it. Miss Meile ? ” 

“ What became of the boat in which I went down 
the stream?” asked Jean. 


158 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

‘‘ I am sure I cannot say, Miss Andrews. It is 
probably mere driftwood by this time, for the bould- 
ers are plentiful and the current becomes very rapid 
further down,” replied Harry. 

“ That is too bad. I must find the owner, and 
replace it,” said Jean. 

“ I think it must have been Dr. Miller’s boat. 
Did you find it near the path that leads from the 
end of the narrow lane ? ” asked Harry. 

“ Yes ; fastened to a small tree,” answered Jean. 

“ Hello, Harry, old boy ! So you have been mak- 
ing yourself useful. We cannot thank you enough.” 
Jack Andrews greeted his friend warmly. 

“Never mind thanking me. Jack. I owe you a 
score or two. I am glad I was there, that is enough,” 
replied Harry. 

The friends gathered about the hearth and spent 
a very pleasant hour. Jean learned that Harry 
Turner, to whom she was so much indebted, 
had been classed as “ irregular ” also, and that he 
was one of the college students to whom Jack had 
referred, who wanted to change to the classical 
course, and that he would be in Jack’s Latin class 
the following term. The delay caused by his drop-^ 
ping out to earn the necessary money for his support 
had thrown him back two years with his work, but 
he had come this time prepared to stay until the 


HARRY TURNER. 


159 


close of his senior year. Dr. Miller had kindly 
offered him a position as assistant librarian, and 
from henceforth he could work uninterruptedly. 

Jean was conscious of an unusual admiration for 
the tall young man with the wavy brown hair and 
the blue eyes, and she was sorry when the evening 
came to a close and her brother’s friend rose to go. 

Harry held Jean’s hand in his own, just long 
enough to ask permission to see her again, when he 
bade her good-night, and Jean felt that she had 
never before met anyone whom she could like as 
much as Mr. Turner, and she granted his request. 

Harry Turner was the only son of poor but godly 
parents. In early boyhood he had learned to turn 
an honest penny whenever an occasion presented 
itself. His ambition was to gain an education, and, 
like Karl Richards, he had felt himself called to the 
ministry. He had been offered a beneficiary by the 
president of the college into whose charge it had 
been placed. 

“No, thank you. Dr. Hegel. I will make a better 
preacher, and will know better how to reach people, 
if I get a few hard knocks myself in the way of 
preparation,” Harry had said. “Give the aid to 
someone who needs it more than I do. So long as 
I can combine that muscle with a little brain power, 
I am all the ‘ aid ’ I need for myself. 


i6o 


THE WILE and the WAY. 


Harry did not feel that the time spent in teaching 
was lost, or that the summer vacations in the har- 
vest-fields with the laboring men were wasted, so 
far as his own education was concerned. He car- 
ried with him everywhere the faith which he had 
learned in his childhood, and no opportunity of 
teaching it to others was lost. Several active Sun- 
day schools in countiy^ districts were the product of 
his energetic zeal, and it was with a feeling of re- 
gret that he closed his school-house door for the last 
time, to return to college permanently. 

I believe Christian teachers are needed about as 
much as preachers,” he had told Dr. Hegel. ‘‘And 
I know that in many homes they have access to 
hearts which the ministry cannot reach.” 

Harry Turner had lost time in his college train- 
ing by his independent refusal to be supported and 
educated at the expense of others, but he had gained 
a training which gave him the knowledge of men 
and affairs, so necessary in a successful ministry. 

Harry had been grieved to see in a mission, in 
which he chanced to live, a man with love in his 
heart for God’s people, and versed in the doctrine 
which he preached, utterly fail in building up the 
v/ork because he failed to understand those to wdiom 
he ministered. Harry knew also that that same peo- 
ple had measured the missionary by the measure of 


HARRY TURNER. 


l6l 


a man, they had weighed and estimated him accord- 
ing to their needs, and he had been found wanting. 

Harry learned from the people’s standpoint what 
was needed and expected in the home missionary, 
and wisely he had decided to gain his preparation 
for his life’s work upon the field where he hoped to 
continue his labors. 

II 


CHAPTER XVL 


THE HALEOWEEN GHOST. 

“ Too much gravity argues a shallow mind/* 

— Lavater, 

A SMALE party was gathered about Miss Meile’s 
fire, where Lottie was deftly poising a corn-popper 
above the glowing coals. The sweet odor of the 
bursting kernels permeated the atmosphere in the 
room. In the parlor Miss McKenzie was reading 
aloud to another group of girls, each intent upon 
her work. It was Friday night, and it was the hour 
when Miss Meile encouraged the inspection of their 
respective wardrobes and the making of necessary 
repairs. It had been styled “ mending night ” by 
the girls, who so thoroughly enjoyed the social 
homelike evening that few remained absent who 
had not some good cause. Original stories, read- 
ings, and reminiscences made the hour pass quickly^ 
while nimble fingers plied the needles. 

‘‘ What a jolly time we do have here. Miss Meile. 
I am almost glad when I tear something ; it gives 


THE HAEEOWEEN ghost. 163 

me such a good excuse for being present,” said Edna 
Brannon, when Miss McKenzie had finished reading. 

‘‘ I never could keep my clothing in order before ; 
but now I feel so comfortable with everything ready 
to wear,” said a little girl near the window. 

“ Come, girls, lend a hand, and make room for 
more,” cried Lottie, as she stood with the popper 
full of flaky grains near the already overflowing dish. 

‘‘Yes, girls, lay aside your work, or we will 
have to disband without refreshments. Miss Howell, 
will you pass those apples ? they have been patiently 
waiting for Lottie to complete her task,” said Miss 
Meile. 

Merry voices, snatches of song, and peals of 
laughter were in evidence of the spirit of good-will 
which prevailed, while they complied with Miss 
Meile’s request. The clear tones of the retiring 
bell caused the girls to look at each other in dis- 
may ; their evening had come to an end, and they 
began to gather up their work, when, just as the last 
sound of the bell had died away, a wail, loud and 
plaintive, penetrated every nook and corner of the 
campus. It was so ghostly, so weird, that the new 
girls paled and looked at Miss Meile for an explana- 
tion. 

A moment of mute astonishment was followed 
by hearty laughter. 


164 the wiee and the way. 

The Halloween ghost ! ” exclaimed Lottie. 

“ That is so, girls. We have just two weeks yet 
until Halloween,” said Miss Howell. 

“ What a dismal wail it had to-night ; it really 
must be growing old. This is its third year — a 
junior, I take it,” laughed Miss Brannon. 

‘‘No, Kate, it does not belong to us. I think it 
is part of the preparatory department,” said Miss 
McKenzie. 

“ But what is it ? ” asked a little girl near the door. 
“ I never heard anything one-half so horrible.” 

“ My dear, we are no wiser than you are,” replied 
Miss Meile. “As Miss Brannon said, this is its 
third appearance, or rather its third season. No 
amount of inquiry or investigation has revealed 
aught of our mysterious visitor. We know it only 
by the sound of its voice, which is somewhat un- 
canny.” 

“ I trust none of my girls will rest uneasily to- 
night,” said Miss Meile, anxiously, as she stood in 
the doorway, bidding them good-night. “It is only 
a joke of some kind, and the perpetrator is unu- 
sually cunning.” 

When Jean and Lottie reached their room, 
though Jean would not admit it, she felt more com- 
fortable when the lamp had been lighted and the 
shades closely drawn. 


THE HAEEOWEKN ghost. 1 65 

“What was that, Lottie?” she said, as she drew 
her chair nearer. 

“ I am sure I do not know. We call it the Hal- 
loween ghost. Two years ago it made its debut^ 
just two weeks before Halloween. Every night, just 
after the ringing of the bell, that terrible howl fol- 
lowed — it does seem more like the howl of a dog than 
anything else to me. Professors and students tried 
to run it down, but it was nowhere. On Halloween 
it gave one long and unusually ghost-like yell, and 
then it rested. We had almost forgotten it, when 
last year, just two weeks before Halloween, the 
ghost returned. All efforts to entrap it failed. A 
night watchman patrolled the campus, but without 
avail, and again on Hallov/een we had the parting 
salute. Now it is here again to remind us of our 
Halloween duties, I suppose. That is the sum- 
total of what I know.” 

The explanation did not satisfy Jean, and it was 
with a restless feeling that she saw Lottie turn out 
the light for the night. 

The ghost was the one topic of conversation in 
the dining-room in the morning. The professors 
tried to appear disinterested, but they carefully 
noted the plans proposed by the students for the 
capture of the annual visitor. 

“ The third time must be a charm,” said Dick 


i66 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


Andrews ; it gets off the campus this time it 
will not be my fault.” 

The ‘‘Anti-Ghost Club ” was quickly formed ; 
the only qualifications necessary for membership 
being constant vigilance and the avowed purpose 
of capturing the mysterious visitor. But again 
every effort failed. The dismal howls grew, if pos- 
sible, more dismal still when watchmen were sta- 
tioned at all parts of the campus, and when a vigi- 
lant group chanced to be under the shadow of the 
large trees the weird sound would emanate directly 
overhead, though nothing in human shape could 
be seen. Once, when a body of students had gath- 
ered at the end of Fenwick hall to waylay the in- 
truder, the ghost sounded in their immediate midst, 
yet they could see no one. 

Even Dick Andrews confessed that he could not 
explain the mystery. 

“ The ghost is having rather a hard time of it 
this year, I imagine,” remarked Benton at dinner 
after the twelfth day. “ There are two more days, 
and then we will miss it for one whole year.” 

“ I am going to watch for it on Halloween 
night,” said Dalton. 

“ I have been told that if one leans over the 
window-sill on Halloween at midnight all things 
will be revealed,” quietly remarked Edna Brannon. 


THE HALLOWEEN GHOST. 


167 


“I will act upon your suggestion, Miss Edna; 
and I trust my fate will reveal itself,” said Dalton, 
Avith an admiring glance in Edna’s direction. 

“ I assure you, Mr. Dalton, that if you wish to 
know your future the ghost will be kind enough to 
assist you, but I do not believe that it will reveal 
itself even to a youth so noble-minded as to 
lean over the window-sill at midnight,” said Elsie 
McKenzie. 

“You seem to have the honor of the ghostship’s 
Acquaintance, Miss Elsie.” 

“ No, indeed, I know not ghosts ! ” exclaimed 
Elsie. “ However, I assure you, that you will 
know your fate at midnight on Halloween if you 
wish it.” 

“ I do wish it, and will lean and wait at mid- 
night, according to directions. My faith in the 
ghostly revels of the night is very great, I assure 
you,” and Mr. Dalton bowed in mock courtesy to 
Elsie. 

The night before Halloween Lottie cautiously 
answered a gentle tap upon her door, and Elsie 
McKenzie stood within. 

“ We have everything planned for to-morrow 
night. We are to have a midnight supper in 
the Brannon room ; seven different kinds of vege- 
tables : cucumbers, carrots, cabbage, pumpkins, 


i68 


THE WIEE and the way. 


rutabagas, turnips, and onions — yes, that makes 
seven,” said Elsie, counting upon her fingers. 
“We must have some sweet cider yet. You and 
Jean must go out to the mill for it.” 

“ When are we to go ? ” asked Lottie. 

“Oh, not until after study hours to-morrow 
night,” answered Elsie. 

“ I have an engagement at that time for to-mor- 
row evening. I can go earlier,” said Lottie. 

“No, you might be seen, and that would post- 
pone the supper indefinitely,” said Elsie. “ I will 
ask Harry Turner to go with Jean instead.” 

“It is against the rules to leave the campus after 
the bell rings,” protested Jean. 

“ You are a goody, Jean,” laughed Lottie ; “ all 
rules are declared off on Halloween.” 

“ I keep the rules generally, but on Halloween I 
make an exception, and I believe the professors do 
too,” said Elsie. 

“I do not believe that Mr. Turner will go,” 
again objected Jean. 

“ Trust him for that. Harry Turner likes a lark 
as well as the rest of us. Be honest, Jean, and con- 
fess that you do not want to go with the young gen- 
tleman, and I will go myself ; worse company might 
easily be found,” laughed Elsie. 

“ I will go if Mr. Turner will,” answered Jean, 


THE HAEEOWEEN GHOST. 169 

goaded by Elsie’s taunt ; “ but I would rather go 
earlier in the day.” 

“ There is not a word in the regulations about 
early walks, Jean. You can go before breakfast if 
that will suit you better,” said Elsie. 

‘‘ That will suit me better,” answered Jean. 

‘‘ I get more fun out of a thing if it does jar the 
regulations a little ; but each one after its kind,” 
said Elsie. “ I will see to it that Harry Turner 
waits for you under the willow by the well, at half- 
past six in the morning. So long,” and she tripped 
noiselessly down the hall to give further directions. 

‘‘All lights out at ten o’clock ” was one of the 
rules strictly observed by the girls of Fenwick Hall 
on Halloween, and Miss Meile smiled with satisfac- 
tion when the usual quiet prevailed everywhere, 
and, after waiting for an hour, she too retired for 
the night. 

Lottie and Elsie were the ruling spirits. “ Now, 
girls,” whispered Elsie, as she opened the doors 
softly, one after another. 

The girls followed her into the Brannon room, 
where the midnight feast awaited them. Two ta- 
bles had been improvised. Each table had thirteen 
paper plates ; each plate had a neatly-sketched win- 
dow, open, with a figure leaning over the sill, and 
was tied with ribbons in college colors, to serve as 


170 


THE WILE and the WAY. 


a souvenir. In the centre of the table a huge jack 
lantern shed its mellow light. Each girl was served 
with a salad made from the seven kinds of vege- 
tables, and a glass of the cider, which Jean and 
Harry Turner had procured in the morning. 

A tub of water and a number of rosy-cheeked 
apples, with slips of paper attached, stood in one 
corner, ready for the fray. Looking-glasses, cam 
dies, and all the paraphernalia of the night were in 
evidence. The large room had been emptied of all 
its furniture, in order to admit the party. A pecu- 
liar robing process was going on in one corner. 
Thirteen girls were finally ready, and moved like 
shadows down the halls. Pillows covered their 
heads and concealed their faces ; their bodies were 
completely enveloped in long white sheets. After 
satisfying themselves that Miss Meile was not ex- 
pecting them, they stole noiselessly by her door, 
down the stairs, and through the vestibule, and 
stood in the deep shadow of the side-porch. A 
window in the boys’ dormitory was raised. 

“ That is Dalton, I know his room,” whispered 
Lottie. ‘‘ Now, girls, single file, march ! ” 

The ghostly procession marched in circles, each 
circle bringing them further out into the large open 
square between the college buildings, where the 
anxious youth could get a full view of his fate. 


THE H ALTO WEEN GHOST. 171 

The air was suddenly filled with the dismal wail of 
the Halloween ghost, more weird than ever before, 
it seemed ; and now that it was accompanied by the 
strangely moving figures on the green, old Jeremiah 
was to be pardoned for his failure to appear suddenly 
upon the scene. 

With the wailings of the ghost the moving 
figures quickened their pace, and retreated toward 
Fenwick Hall, and then vanished in the darkness. 
Dalton, with several companions, searched every 
part of the campus faithfully, but nothing was 
found. True to Elsie’s prediction, the ghost had 
assisted in revealing Dalton’s fate, without making 
itself known. Jeremiah, with chattering teeth, was 
advising the abandonment of the search, when 
Dick Andrews appeared. 

How many persons knew what you were going 
to do, Dalton ? ” he asked. 

“ Only our table,” replied Dalton. 

‘‘ Oh — ah ! ha ! ” said Dick ; and, turning on his 
fieel, he suddenly went toward his room. 

“ I have located the ghost, but I do not know 
that I care to catch it, or rather her,” he laughed. 

‘‘ Who is it ? ” asked Jack. 

Wait and you will see.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THANKSGIVING. 

“ Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteous- 
ness ; for they shall be filled.” — Bible. 

‘‘ Hkigho ! over at last. Tally one more ! ” 
cried Lottie, as she tossed her books to the further 
corner of the room. 

‘‘Are you through ? ” asked Jean. 

“ Yes ; through with every last examination, 
and now I am going to pack your things, Brownie. 
We are going to see you off.” 

“You will not have much time to spare,” con- 
tinued Lottie, as she dragged a large satchel from 
its corner in the wardrobe. 

Jean smiled at the thought of Lottie’s assistance 
in packing the few articles which she intended to 
take with her. The fall term of school was ended 
and the short Thanksgiving vacation begun. She 
and Dick were going home to stay a few days. 

“ Let me see,” mused Lottie, “ you will want 
your henrietta for Sunday.” Jean winced, as she 
(172) 


THANKSGIVING. 1 73 

saw her best gown tightly rolled and placed in one 
corner of the valise. 

I am so sorry you are not going, Lottie. I had 
written father that yon were coming, and they will 
be greatly disappointed,” said Jean. 

‘‘ I am sorry myself,” said Lottie ; “ but it cannot 
be helped.” 

Lottie selected a handful of laces and ribbons 
from Jean’s drawer. 

“ This will be Katie’s last Thanksgiving, Jean, 
and I could not find the heart to leave her here 
alone. Christmas will come soon, and that vaca- 
tion will be longer ; I would rather go then.” 

Then,” continued Lottie, as she carefully 
locked the valise and put the key into Jean’s purse. 
Jack cannot go now, either ; and I could not en- 
joy a visit to your home in his absence.” 

“ You do not know Jack, Lottie. He is the jol- 
liest fellow at home. Here he works and studies so 
hard that ” 

He is absorbed in impossible theories of pro- 
priety, et cetera,” interrupted Lottie. 

“ Now, Jean, there is just time enough left to 
make you look nice for the journey. Just think, 
you will be at home to-night ! How nice it must 
be to live so near. I cannot go home before June, 
if at all, next year.” 


174 


THE WILE and the WAY. 


‘‘If at all!” echoed Jean. “Why surely yon 
will go then ? ” 

“ I am sure of nothing,” replied Lottie, sadly. 
“ There are many self-denials when one is earning 
money for an education. Yon see, Jean, it would take 
almost as much for traveling expenses as it will to 
stay here one whole year, and making lace is not 
the easiest way to coin silver.” 

“ But, Lottie, you will accept that position in the 
choir offered you last week? ” 

“ I have decided to refuse,” quietly answered 
Lottie. “ I know you will think it foolish, but that 
is not the church I promised to obey and support, 
and I ” Lottie hesitated. 

“ I thought a church was a church, and that it 
made but little difference where we go or belong so 
long as we do what is right, and I did not know 
that it was necessary to obey or support any one 
church,” said Jean. 

“ I do not know how to answer your arguments 
save by my feelings in the matter. I feel that I 
virtually promised to obey and support a church 
when I publicly became a member of that church. 
I have but little money to give, but if I can sing so 
that others will come to hear me, it will be just that 
much toward the support.” 


THANKSGIVING. 


175 


“And you will go on making lace, which will not 
pay you nearly so well? ” asked Jean. 

“And go on making lace, which will not pay me 
nearly so well, but which is far more agreeable than 
facing a critical audience and having them discuss 
the value of my poor music from a financial stand- 
point. You see, Jean, my customers may take or 
reject my lace, while my singing would be forced 
upon them, nolens volens. 

“It is time to go now. I wonder what that 
little Quaker mother of yours will think of the 
butterfly that has emerged from the chrysalis in 
these three months. You came here so prim and 
plain that one could easily have imagined yon 
twenty-seven instead of only seventeen, and now you 
are quite stylish with your frills and furbelows,” 
and kottie gave Jean an admiring glance as she led 
her from the room. 

On the piazza and on different parts of the cam- 
pus groups of students with various parcels were 
gathering : some ready to go to the homes which 
they had not seen for one whole term ; others, whose 
homes were too far away to be reached in the short 
vacation, were ready to accompany friends and 
share their hospitality ; still others, less fortunate, 
who would accompany their classmates as far as the 


176 THE WILE AND THE WAY. 

station, bid them a cheerful good-bye, and return to 
the deserted college halls, which were more lonely, 
if possible, than the homesick hearts which they 
sheltered. 

The little groups began to gather, and they 
naturally fell into line, two by two, and the students’ 
march to the depot nearly one mile away was 
begun. 

Merry conversation and laughter were the out- 
ward expressions of happy hearts, as they passed 
through the quiet streets. When they approached 
the green which lay between the town and the rail- 
road station, someone near the centre of the line 
commenced to sing a familiar college song ; others 
took up the strain and the strong young voices rang 
out in chorus. Other college songs followed as the 
students crowded the platform. The engine which 
was to carry them away stood panting and puffing, 
while its dusty master leaned out of the window 
with an expression of enjoyment upon his smoke- 
begrimed face. 

Jean and Dick took their places in the nearest 
coach. How different from that other ride in Sep- 
tember ! Then they were surrounded by strangers 
on all sides ; now familiar faces completely filled 
the car, and on the platform handkerchiefs were 
waving good-byes from many friends. 


THANKSGIVING. 


177 


As the train pulled out there broke forth the col- 
lege yell from the students remaining at the station, 
and it was taken up and shouted back by the out- 
going students with youthful exuberance. 

Jean saw Lottie and Jack in the crowd. 

“ How selfish it seems to go home for a vacation 
and leave Jack and Lottie here to work,” said 
Jean. 

‘‘ Jack is needed to keep the wheels of the college 
machinery moving, in order that everything may 
be ready for the new term. It’s his duty,” replied 
Dick. 

Lottie had used that same word, ‘‘duty,” in ex- 
plaining to Jean her inability to leave the college 
grounds. Duty it was in both cases ; but the one, 
the duty of a scrupulously honest character, which 
would pay back to the utmost farthing, ready to 
put aside self-gratification in order that he might 
make even a greater return than exacting justice 
could demand. The other was the self-imposed 
duty of a loving soul, to whom it was no less im- 
perative that the wounded bird should be tenderly 
cared for, or that the cries of the child in pain 
should be hushed, than that the daily self-denials 
should be endured in order that those whom she 
loved should not suffer for her sake. It is a noble 
nature, which, with sincerity of purpose and inde- 
12 


178 THE WILE AND THE WAY. 

pendence of spirit, rises above the barriers which 
surround it and obtains the preparation for a useful 
career ; but it is a nobler nature which combines 
sincerity and independence with unselfishness and 
attains the same end, while it scatters innumerable 
blessings along the way. Some such thoughts 
occurred to Jean in a vague manner, as the train 
sped along, and then she felt amused that she had 
dared to compare Lottie and Jack even in thought. 

As they passed familiar objects along the road, 
Jean became impatient in her anxiety to reach 
home. She hoped that their father would meet 
them at the train, and, when she found John in his 
stead awaiting them, she was sorely disappointed. 

‘‘ Father does not like to drive after dark,” said 
John, as he led the way to the sheltered place 
where the horses were champing their bits. 

“May I drive?” asked Dick; “I have not held 
a rein since I left home.” 

“ Yes, if you wish,” replied John. “ They are a 
restless pair, and you will need your muscle.” 

Dick gathered up the lines ; the horses pricked 
up their ears and sped away at an easy trot until 
they were well out of the city, when Dick gave a 
peculiar whistle and they fairly flew over the 
ground. 

“ Isn’t that fine, though? ” said Dick, as he held 


THANKSGIVING. 


179 


them down to a trot, and then slackened their speed 
until they were content to walk. 

‘‘They seem to know you, Dick,” said John. 
“ I had considerable trouble in controlling them.” 

“ Horses know much more than they get credit 
for,” replied Dick. 

To Jean the long drive across the country was 
even more trying than the car ride had been. She 
could scarce curb her impatience longer when at 
last she saw the familiar glimmer of the dining- 
room light. “ The table is waiting for us just as it 
used to wait for Jack,” she thought. Dick drew 
up his warm horses and Jean leaped from her seat, 
and, stopping only long enough to give Lion a 
hearty hug, she bounded over the side-porch and 
into her mother’s room. 

How happy that meeting with mother and 
father ; how comfortable and cozy they all seemed 
to be ! Everything was in its old familiar place, 
and to Jean it seemed but yesterday that she had 
gone away. 

The mother was too happy in having her chil- 
dren home again to notice how they had changed. 
The father glanced across the table to where Jean 
sat and saw with inward approval that she was 
still the same unassuming girl that had gone out 
of the home three months before, but that she had 


i8o 


THE WIEE and the way. 


gained a more womanly air, which exactly suited 
her. 

Dick, too, had grown more manly. His father 
missed the roguish twinkle in his brown eyes when 
he passed his plate to be helped a second time, with 
the remark, ‘‘ Katherine’s chicken pies are not to 
be despised, even when there is Thanksgiving tur- 
key in the air — eh, Jean?” 

Dick had not lost his boyish, fun-loving spirit, 
but in those few months, amid other surroundings, 
an earnestness of purpose had awakened within 
him that he had never known before. Companion- 
ship with Karl, and the relation in which he stood 
to Dr. Hegel after he had joined the Sunday after- 
noon catechetical class, had enabled him to know 
the sterling worth of Christian scholarship. He 
had a newer and a deeper respect for his friend. 
Rev. Simons, and, since his conversation with him 
in the moonlight, he had read, studied, and thought 
much. New ambitions had suggested themselves 
to him at times. Karl’s words concerning the use- 
fulness and wide influence of a Christian teacher 
had given to Dick an unexpressed longing to attain 
to this, the ultimate good. He resolved to have an- 
other talk with the young minister while at home 
in order that he might gain more light. Dick had 
missed religious training in his childhood, and was 


THANKSGIVING. 


l8l 


utterly at sea so far as entering upon the new life 
which he had decided to live was concerned. 

After supper Dick announced his intention of 
taking Beauty out for a spin. Beauty was a fine sad- 
dle horse, and had been a gift from his father upon 
his last birthday. The farmer was pleased to see 
that application to study had not lessened his son’s 
love for horses. 

I may be late. I think I will run over to the 
parsonage.” 

“ The parsonage ! Simons’, you mean ? Why 
that is a good five miles ! ” exclaimed Fred. 

“ Five miles is not much of a run for a horse that 
has been idle, or for a fellow that’s let out,” an- 
swered Dick. 

The minister was most agreeably surprised by 
the visit. He surmised the purpose of the 
call. 

“ Mr. Simons, I came to have a good talk with 
you to-night, if you are not too busy.” 

‘‘ I am quite at your service, Dick,” replied the 
minister. 

Dick hesitated, not knowing how to introduce 
the subject uppermost in his mind. 

“ What is it ? ” finally asked his friend. “ Is it 
your school work or is it the choice of a profession 
again? or, Dick, is it something more important 


i 82 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


than either of these — is it the one thing you still 
need to make a complete man of yourself ? ” 

“ A complete man ? ” 

‘‘Yes, Dick,” replied the minister, coming before 
him and looking squarely into his eyes. “God 
created man in His own image, but this likeness to 
the Creator was lost when, through disobedience, 
man fell from his high estate. Through God’s 
mercy we are permitted to regain the original like- 
ness to the divine and combine true holiness with 
knowledge and volition ; it is this that constitutes 
full manhood and which gives character to the 
Christian and enables him to accomplish lasting 
good.” 

The clock on the mantel ticked loudly in the 
silence which followed. The minister waited for 
Dick to reply, and then walked to the window and 
looked out upon the night. 

“ Can a man lead a Christian life without making 
a public profession?” finally asked Dick. 

“ It would be impossible to hide a Christian char- 
acter, Dick. Our lives are the profession of our 
faith. The Spirit will lead His followers aright.” 

Then followed a long and earnest discussion of 
the sacraments which are to be obtained only within 
the pale of the church, in which the minister en- 
deavored to explain all that Dick could not under- 


THANKSGIVING. 1 83 

stand. The little clock pointed to the midnight 
hour when he arose to go. 

“My boy, you are making this unnecessarily 
hard. Instead of accepting the Spirit’s invitation, 
and yielding yourself, your life, and whatever it 
may be, to the providence which has guided you 
thus far, you try to solve problems which will take 
care of themselves in due time. Do not try to 
understand the whole theory of salvation. Be con- 
cerned about your own needs in the present, and let 
God do the rest. 

“We have, I think, gone far enough to-night. 
Think over what we have said, and learn to go to 
the Father for the wisdom which He so freely gives.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Simons, for all your interest in 
me. I will be a better man for having known 
you,” said Dick, with emotion. 

“ Good-night, Dick,” said the minister, as he held 
Dick’s hand in his own. “ Think well over what 
has been said to-night, and may the morning bring 
you light.” 

Dick rode slowly homeward through the frosty 
moonlight. Beauty grew restless at such an unac- 
customed gait. 

“ Well, well, old girl — then go ! ” said Dick, giv- 
ing her the rein, and the home road was rapidly 
shortened. 


i 84 the wile and the way. 

The Thanksgiving sun shone brightly when Dick 
awoke. It was such a comfortable sensation to be 
home again and to know that no unfinished lessons 
were waiting. He had about decided to take an- 
other nap when he heard, faintly, the tinkle of 
Katherine’s bell in the back stairway. 

“ That settles it,” he exclaimed. That means 
buckwheat cakes and maple syrup. No, I don’t 
care to sleep longer.” 

Jean had waked also with the sun ; but, as of old, 
hastened to be of service to her mother. Aunt Jo 
readily yielded her place to the daughter, and Jean 
was happy in the performance of her loving task. 

It was a merry Thanksgiving morning at the 
farm-house — so much for Dick and Jean to relate, 
while mother and Aunt Jo acquainted the home- 
comers with all that had transpired during their 
absence. There were frequent interruptions from 
Katherine, whose long service in the family enabled 
her to ask for assistance without fear of giving 
offense. Rob, Fred, and Dick took turns in reliev- 
ing the maid, while Jean remained at her mother’s 
side or visited the barn and the chickens. 

John and his wife came early, bringing the little 
daughter, who had outgrown her long dresses dur- 
ing Jean’s absence, and had learned to say a few 
words in baby fashion. 


THANKSGIVING. 


185 


Jean saw with delight that the littTe one had 
crept into her mother’s heart, and that the gulf be- 
tween her brother’s family and her mother was fast 
being spanned. 

‘‘ How happy we would all be if Jack were only 
here,” said Jean. “ I do believe I miss him more 
than I did last Thanksgiving.” 

“We miss him all the time. The house is very 
lonely when you and Dick are gone too. We will 
be glad when you are tired of school and come 
home to stay for good, Jeanie,” said the farmer. 

“ Get tired of school ! ” exclaimed Jean ; and 
then, meeting Dick’s eye, she somehow understood 
that he did not want her to say more, and going to 
her father she slipped her arms around his neck in 
the old loving caress, and said, “ I will be glad, 
too, when I can be at home always.” 

The farmer dearly loved the least expression of 
affection on the part of his children, and he smiled 
as he drew his daughter nearer to him. 

Jean knew how Jack’s seeming indifference had 
at times wounded her parents, and she had early re- 
solved to cause them no unnecessary pain. Twice 
each week while at school her letters, filled to over- 
flowing with the little happenings of her daily life, 
had brightened the lonely country home, and had 
seemed to bring the absent ones near. They had 


1 86 THE WILE AND THE WAY. 

learned to excuse Jack’s tardiness in v/riting, for his 
time was precious, and Jean meant that they should 
regard it in that light ; but as for her, her time 
should never become too valuable to use it in 
cheering the hearts of those whom she loved dearly, 
and who had done so much for her. 

“ I have brought you something, father,” said 
Jean, as she tossed a parcel into his hands. 

“ Well, Jeanie ! ” exclaimed the farmer when he 
had opened the package. “ Two pairs of wool-socks ! 
Now that is fine. When did you do it, child?” 

“ Oh, it didn’t take much time. I learned to 
knit at odd moments, just like Lottie crochets. I 
knew that you needed them,” replied Jean, while 
she undid another package. “ Something Lottie 
taught me to make for you, mother,” said Jean, as 
she threw a beautiful cape of silver gray over her 
mother’s shoulders. 

“You see we think of you all the time when we 
are away from home, and miss you quite as much 
as you miss us.” 

“ Lottie could not come? ” asked the mother. 

“No, Lottie stayed with Katie. She is failing so 
rapidly. You remember I told you about her.” 

“ That reminds me ! ” exclaimed Dick. “ I prom- 
ised to send Lottie some of Katherine’s goodies. I 
will have to send them in the morning.” 


THANKSGIVING. 187 

‘‘You might put her box and Jack’s together,” 
said Bob. 

Jean and Dick exchanged glances, and Dick 
laughed aloud. 

“ Lottie and Jack are not likely to eat a Thanks- 
giving lunch together, or to enjoy joint ownership 
of a Thanksgiving box even,” said Dick. 

The family knew Jack’s aversion to Lottie. He 
had made no attempt to conceal it in his letters, 
and regretted the fact that his mistake had brought 
Jean under her influence. 

Who can do justice to a Thanksgiving dinner 
upon a farm ! The turkey in its rich brown coat, 
with trimmings of green, awaited the farmer’s 
skill, while every conceivable delicacy loaded table 
and sideboard. 

“ Did you forget the pumpkin pies, Katherine? ” 
asked Dick, looking about for his favorite. 

Katherine smiled in reply as she lifted the 
little granddaughter into Robbie’s discarded high 
chair. 

“Now, father, the story,” said Dick, when they 
had gathered about the crackling wood fire in the 
sitting-room again. 

It was the custom in that farm-house to have the 
father relate tales of pioneer life, or of his own 
childhood in the mountains of Pennsylvania. The 


1 88 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

children always listened eagerly, and many times 
some favorite story was repeated by request. 

The parents were carried back in memory to the 
time when they in the enthusiasm of youth had 
braved the hardships of the unbroken prairie, and 
as the father talked to the children the mother 
looked lovingly at the gray-haired man at her side, 
to whom, as a blushing bride, she had plighted her 
troth at the altar, and who had cared for her so ten- 
derly in her misfortune and old age. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE EATIN CEASS. 

“If we observe, we shall find that all human virtues increase 
and strengthen themselves by the practice and experience of 
them.” — Socrates, 

The short vacation passed all too soon for Jean. 
She had divided her time between her mother and 
roaming about the house and farm. She had gone 
nutting with Rob and Fred and driven over to 
John’s farm with Dick, and once they had called 
at the parsonage, while out to exercise the colts. 
Jean’s evident pleasure in going from room to room 
and the sense of freedom in which she reveled 
caused considerable amusement to the younger 
brothers. 

The last evening of the vacation found Jean 
reluctant to end her visit, yet anxious to go back 
and try the new term’s work, and to begin her 
Latin in Jack’s class. She remembered how loath she 
had been to leave home at the beginning of the year, 
and wondered that she could find it at all easier to 
(189) 


190 


THK WILL AND THE WAY. 


go away again. It was not that Jean loved home 
less than she had before going away ; but other ties 
had been formed which bound her to the outside 
world. Her horizon had grown larger, and other 
duties and necessities urged themselves. The part- 
ing caused her pain, as it had before, but new 
hopes and new aspirations had lessened the pain. 

At school they found the usual busy atmosphere 
at the commencement of a new term. Students 
were making out new programmes for their daily 
work, and new students were being registered. 

Jean entered the special Latin class the morning 
after her return. It v/as with secret pride that she 
saw Jack in the professor’s chair. She listened 
attentively as he talked about the advantages of 
the study and the nature of the work which the 
special class would undertake. The class registra- 
tion was completed, the lesson assigned, and they 
were at liberty for the remainder of the hour, while 
Jack hastened back to the secretary’s desk. 

It was not a large class which met to take this 
special preparation for rapid work in Latin. Jean 
was delighted to find that Harry Turner was to be 
one of their number. Grace Seymore and Jennie 
Derwood were there also ; but Jean had not yet for- 
gotten the impression which she received at their 
first meeting at the railroad station. There was a 


THE TATIN CTASS. 


191 

shy, sweet-faced little girl in the class whom Jean 
had not met before. She registered as I^ibbie West. 
There were two young men — one the president’s 
son, and one from out in town. That completed 
the class roll. 

Jean was passing out into the hall when Harry 
Turner’s familiar voice arrested her. 

“ I am so glad yon are taking this work. Miss 
Andrews. I am a total stranger in the class, aside 
from your brother and yourself.” 

She paused to reply to Harry, and Miss Seymore 
and Miss Derwood passed them. Jean’s eyes dropped 
under their critical gaze, and a hot flush mantled 
her cheeks when she heard Grace Seymore remark 
to her companion : 

“ The little rustic improves.” 

Harry Turner had heard also, and the look of 
contempt upon his face was ill concealed. 

The next morning found Jean with her lyatin 
lesson faithfully worked out. She had additional 
incentive to good work in the fact that any failure 
upon her part would humiliate Jack. That she 
resolved should never be, and she was glad for an 
opportunity of verifying her work by comparison 
with Harry Turner’s results, when she found him 
in the room a few moments before the time for 
recitation. Jack regarded Mr. Turner as a very 


192 


THE WIEE and the WAY. 


thorough student, and Jean wondered that he had 
not studied Latin before, as he had been in college 
for some time. 

The work had been carried on most successfully 
for several weeks, when Jean again entered the 
class-room somewhat early. 

“ Cum frumento trans Rhenum ” was Jean’s 
greeting from Harry, who was already in his place. 
“ It seems to me that Caesar is having altogether 
more trouble with his corn and his men than the 
occasion warrants. I have my ablatives and datives 
hopelessly confused. I am anxious to see how you 
have translated the English sentences into Latin.” 

“I am afraid you will be disappointed,” said 
Jean, as she opened her note-book. ‘‘ Lottie wanted 
to help me, but I did not think that that would be 
fair.” 

‘‘ Do you think it wrong to get help in your 
work. Miss Andrews ? ” asked Harry. 

‘‘Not when it is honest help ; but it seems 
wrong to have someone who is in college translate 
a difficult sentence and then pass it off in class as 
original,” replied Jean. 

“ That is contemptible ! ” exclaimed Harr}^ “ I 
have decided to do my very best in the way of get- 
ting my lessons, and then if I fail I will fail hon- 
estly, and get my help from the teacher, and I will 


THK LATIN CLASS. 


193 


not stand one mark higher than I deserve in my 
reports.” 

“ I have failed utterly in the last sentence,” said 
Jean. 

“ So have I,” answered Harry slowly ; ‘‘ I seem 
to be unusually stupid these days. Well, there is 
the bell. Jack will soon make it all plain for us.” 

“ Only one in the class who has been able to get 
the entire lesson ? ” asked Jack a few moments later, 
when only one hand had been raised in response to 
a former question. 

‘‘ Miss Seymore, you may place the difficult sen- 
tence upon the board and explain the construction 
to the class.” 

Miss Seymore proudly did as she had been com- 
manded, and Jean felt her own failure the more be- 
cause the one member of the class whom she liked 
least had been successful. She had half hoped that 
the entire class would fail also. She would have 
been ashamed to acknowledge even to herself that 
she had had such a selfish thought. She wanted so 
much to do well for Jack’s sake that she did not re- 
alize her attitude toward her fellow-students. She 
went to her room more determined than ever to 
succeed. 

“ If Grace Seymore can get a lesson, Jean 
Andrews can get it,” she said aloud as she went to 

13 


194 


THE WIEE and the way. 


work at her books. That resolution was to become 
the foundation of Jean’s success. What others had 
done she could do, and by it she would overcome 
every obstacle in the way of her preparation. Since 
her visit home she felt more at ease in regard to 
her parents. They were quite as well and com- 
fortable as when she had been with them, and her 
conscience did not trouble her when she resolved 
to gain an education. Lottie’s example of inde- 
pendence had awakened within her a desire to 
gain a like experience for herself. 

“ If Lottie can earn her own way, I can,” Jean 
had said over and over to herself, and then she 
always fell to wondering how she could do it. 
Whenever she approached Lottie upon the subject, 
Lottie would shake her curls knowingly and 
answer : “ Where there is a will there is a way,” 
and once she had added, ‘‘ Get the will ready, Jean, 
and the way will appear.” 

Each day found Jean closely confined to her 
books. The additional work of the Latin class 
required all her spare time. She did not neglect 
Katie, but visited her regularly, and the letters- 
home were written promptly. If they contained 
less of student life than they had before, it was 
because Jean’s student life was narrowing itself 
down to the study table and the class-room. 


THE LATIN CLASS. 


195 


“ You are growing pale, Jean,’’ said Jack one 
evening after the third week of hard work. ‘‘ Too 
much confinement is taking the roses out of your 
cheeks. The sleighing is fine, and I am going to 
take you for a drive. Since Katie can no longer 
go out. Dr. Miller has placed his horse at my dis- 
posal ; but so far I have been unable to take ad- 
vantage of his kindness.” 

It was the night for Katie’s prayer meeting, but 
then Jack did not ask her to go often, and they 
might be back in time also. Jean did not hesitate 
long, and was soon flying over the crisp snow, 
snugly tucked in at Jack’s side. 

“How do you like your Latin, Jean? You do 
very well in class, but I have not been able to de- 
cide whether you really enjoy the work or not.” 

“ I hope you are not ashamed of me. Jack. I do 
the best I can, but it does seem as if I can never do 
quite as well as Miss Seymore,” said Jean. “ She 
always has her lessons perfect.” 

“Yes, by far too nearly perfect,” answered Jack, 
with a peculiar emphasis upon the perfect, which 
Jean failed to understand. 

“ Class rivalry is wholesome, though, and Miss 
Seymore’s work is not lost if it acts as an incentive 
to honest students,” continued Jack. “You and 
Harry Turner are doing very well indeed. I am 


196 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

surprised, however, that you never have the same 
rendering, since I see you compare notes regularly 
before class.” 

‘‘ Oh ! ” said Jean ; ‘‘ we never copy from each 
other. We are simply afraid of making ridiculous 
blunders, and feel easier after we have criticised 
each other’s work. Is that fair. Jack ? ” 

“Not only fair, but a most excellent method. 
The habit of studying together is very bad, how- 
ever. Someone misses all the benefit to be derived 
from study, and, usually, it is the dull student who 
is the loser.” 

“ I thought that possibly Miss Seymore and Miss 
Derwood studied together,” said Jean. 

“No. I do not think Miss Seymore cares to 
study with anyone. I think I know how she gets 
her lessons,” answered Jack, and he chirped the 
horse up to a livelier gait. 

They drove a considerable distance out into the 
country. The moon shone dimly through a white 
mist. 

“ More snow,” said Jack. “ Sleighing will be 
fine for Christmas. We will get the colts accus- 
tomed to bells when I go home. I am not going to 
coop myself up in that office this year. I had a 
letter from father yesterday, and he said we should 
each bring one friend with us.” 


THE EATIN CLASS. 


197 


‘‘ Oh, I am so glad ! Dick can take Karl. Lottie 
was to go Thanksgiving vacation, but she would 
not leave Katie then. I am afraid she will feel the 
same way again,” said Jean. 

‘‘No, Jean, Katie will hardly detain Lottie one 
week from now,” said Jack. 

Jean shivered, and Jack drew the robe closer. 

“ It seems terrible to die so young. Jack.” 

“ It astonishes me to see how calmly both Katie 
and Dr. Miller regard her fast-approaching end,” 
said Jack. 

“ They are both Christians, and Miss Meile says 
it is easier for Christians to suffer. Do you believe 
that Jack ? ” asked Jean. 

“ It has always seemed to me that Christians load 
considerable extra trouble upon themselves. Dr. 
Miller is an exception,” answered Jack. 

“ Jack, did it ever seem to you that there are two 
kinds of Christians — one like Neighbor Allen and 
one like Dr. Miller ? ” asked Jean. 

“ There is something in that, Jean. I never 
thought of classifying them before. Now, I 
wouldn’t mind belonging to Dr. Miller’s class my- 
self, if I could learn to bear up under misfortune as 
cheerfully as he does. It does seem that every pos- 
sible ill has befallen him, and yet there is always 
the cheerful welcome for everyone, either in the 


198 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

office or in his private rooms. Since Katie has 
been so poorly he will sit at the desk for half an 
hour or more with his pen in his hand and never 
write a word, and then he will walk over to the 
private office and close the door after him, and will 
remain alone for some time. When he comes out 
I can see that he has been weeping ; but he seems 
cheerful and happy. It reminds me of the sun- 
shine after a summer shower.” 

Jack drove on silently for some distance, and then 
continued : 

If I could be a man like Dr. Miller I would 
aspire to nothing higher. By the way, Jean, do you 
know anything concerning Dick’s plans. I see so 
little of him now. We used to have Sunday after- 
noons together ; but he has joined the Ministerial 
Band, and spends his time with Karl. I seldom see 
him now.” 

‘‘ I am sure I do not know,” replied Jean. “ He 
seemed unusually sober when we were home ; but 
I supposed that he was thinking about his studies.” 

‘‘ I am afraid he is contemplating something more 
serious,” said Jack, and he turned his horse about 
and drove homeward. 

I cannot be gone long to-night. Dr. Hegel is 
away, and Dr. Miller will want to be with Katie.” 

Jean reached her room in a peculiar state of 


THE EATIN CEASS. 


199 


mind. What had come over Jack? He had not 
opposed Lottie’s going home with her Christmas, 
and, what was still more strange, he had not hinted 
at opposition to Dick’s plans. Jean could not be- 
lieve that Jack had yielded to the influences of the 
school, as had Dick. 

Jean might well wonder at Jack’s changed atti- 
tude. His close association with Dr. Miller had 
caused him to admire the Christian character of the 
man. Jack had spent some time with Katie also, 
and she had exacted a promise from him that he 
would in no way interfere with Dick’s religious life. 
He had readily consented. He was quite willing 
that Dick (and Jean, also, if she were to incline that 
way) should follow the bent of his convictions. 

Jack Andrews was far from narrow or conceited. 
Like Jean, he had become hardened toward the re- 
ligion which his mother, through Neighbor Allen’s 
influence, would have forced upon him, and, unlike 
Dick or Jean, he had to break the road to college in 
which they followed. His lot had been hard. Con- 
stant application to study, with all his vacations 
and spare hours during school given to office work, 
had left him but little opportunity for outside 
thought or companionship. 

He sometimes contrasted Dick’s comparatively 
'easy life with his own hard efforts, and then imme- 


200 


THK WII.I. AND THE WAY. 


diately banished the thought as unworthy of him, 
and hoped that Robbie and Fred might encounter 
even less difficulty than had fallen to Dick’s lot. 

Dottie had appeared in a most favorable light in 
the sick room, but toleration was far from admira- 
tion with Jack Andrews. 

It was late when Jean returned from the ride for 
the meeting, but she decided to go notwithstand- 
ing. The girls seemed depressed, and, unlike the 
other meetings which she had attended, there were 
frequent pauses. Finally Miss Meile spoke from 
her place at the fireside : 

I am afraid that Katie’s empty chair has over- 
shadowed us with its gloomy forebodings to-night. 
We must learn to look upon it differently. The 
Father saw fit to afflict Katie in her childhood. 
That affiiction sorely grieved her friends, but it 
made of Katie the ministering angel which she has 
been in our midst. She has influenced every life 
with which she came in contact ; she has carried 
the story of the Master with her wherever she 
went, and the seeds of truth have been nurtured by 
her loving care until they have yielded a hundred- 
fold in your lives. The Father pities His child, 
and is about to relieve her patient sufferings. 
Katie will soon be free from pain. 

“ Let us thank the Father that we have had her 


THE EATIN CEASS. 


201 


with US SO long ; that she has come into our lives 
and influenced them for good ; and let us rejoice 
that Katie will soon be at rest.” 

Sobs broke from the girls while Miss Meile was 
speaking, and her own voice trembled with emo- 
tion. 

‘‘ One thing will greatly cheer Katie in her last 
hours — if you will pledge yourselves to continue 
these Friday evening meetings as long as you are 
in Fenwick Hall. You may continue to call them 
by the name so dear to us, and Katie’s work will 
continue to live and bless other lives.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


KATIE’S DEATH. 

** Our own are our own forever ; God taketh not back His gift ; 

They may pass beyond our visions, but our souls shall find 
them out, 

When the waiting is all accomplished, and the deadly shadows 
lift. 

And glory is given for grieving, and the surety of God for 
doubt. 

When the faith has grown to fullness, and the silence changed 
to song. 

We shall eat the fruit of patience, and shall not hunger 
again.** 

— Susan Coolidge, 

LitteE Katie had grown more feeble as the chill 
December days shortened. 

She could no longer sit in the low easy-chair 
which kind friends had procured for her. She wel- 
comed all who came to her sick chamber, but to 
Jean she would reach out her thin little hand in a 
beseeching manner which could not be resisted. 

A study table had been placed in the room ad- 
joining Katie’s for the convenience of Lottie and 
(202) 


KATIE’S DEATH. 


203 


Jean, who were Katie’s constant companions, and 
shared the responsibility of nursing their little 
friend. 

Katie was not in ignorance of her physical con- 
dition. The only sadness produced by the knowl- 
edge was her sorrow at the thought of parting with 
those so dear to her. 

‘‘You will be kind to papa, too, Jean, when I am 
gone ; he will miss me very miich,” she said one 
afternoon, when the cough had been unusually 
troublesome, and she realized that she had grown 
even weaker than she had been before. 

“You will be stronger when spring comes, 
Katie,” Jean had replied. 

“No, Jeanie ; I will not wait for spring. I will 
be better — very soon. Papa will be all alone then,” 
and she turned her head that Jean might not see 
the tears which started unbidden at the thought of 
leaving the only parent she had ever known. 

“ Katie, do you ever feel afraid to — of the change? ” 
asked Jean, hesitatingly. 

“ Afraid ? No, Jean, you cannot know how I long 
to go,” and Katie’s wan face lighted up beautifully. 
“ There is so much sorrow here. It seems to me 
sometimes that our lives on earth are only intended 
as a preparation for the other life. I am tired, Jean ; 
so tired of trying to live. I go so gladly. It is 


204 


THE WIEL AND THE WAY. 


only when I think of papa and you that I feel sad ; 
but it will not be long. You will come where I 
am some time, and — I will be like other girls there.” 

Jean was crying softly in the twilight, and Katie 
continued : 

“ I wonder what it will seem like to have a 
mother ? I never had a mother here, but I feel that 
I will meet and know her there. Can you imagine 
what it will be like, Jean, to see Jesus face to face? 
I have tried to think about it, but cannot realize 
what it will be to know Him there. I do want to 
go, but I want to take you all along.” 

Jean could not trust herself to speak. She rose 
to light the lamp. 

“No, Jean. Sit by me in the firelight. I may 
not see you alone again — soon. Jean, can you pro- 
mise me before I go that you will give yourself to 
Jesus. I know He is calling you, for I have prayed 
much for you. Dick is in the right way, but you 
and Jack are still away from your Saviour. You 
could both do so much for Him. You are young 
and strong, and the world is before you ; the har- 
vest needs you. I cannot believe that you will wait 
long, Jean. Promise me that when I am gone you 
will remember what I have asked of you.” 

Katie held Jean’s hand in both her own ; the 
length of her talk, combined with her intensely 


KATIE’S DEATH. 


205 


earnest manner, brought on a paroxysm of coughing. 
Before she had recovered her breath her father 
entered the room. He stood looking down at his 
only child — all that the world held dear for him, 
that he could call his own, and then slipping his 
hand under her pillow he gently raised her until 
she breathed easier. 

‘‘ It is hard, Katie.” 

“Yes, but it will soon be over, papa,” she whis- 
pered. “You will be glad, for my sake, when I am 
free.” 

“Yes, child ; for your sake, I can bear it, if it be 
His will,” said Dr. Miller. 

Jean felt that to remain longer would be intrud- 
ing upon the most sacred right of parent and child, 
and she slipped out of the room so quietly and 
closed the door after her so gently that they did not 
miss her. 

She threw herself upon a couch and buried her 
face in the pillows to stifle the sobs which shook 
her frame. 

“ Katie must not die ; I cannot see her go ! ” 
wailed Jean over and over. Her whole nature re- 
belled at the thought that one so young and so good 
should be taken away. 

In the chamber of death the father, who had long 
since learned submission to the Creator’s will, was 


2o6 


THK WII.I. AND THE WAY. 


again passing under His chastening rod. Only 
those who have felt the agony of separation from a 
loved one dearer than life can know the sorrow of 
that father’s heart when he realized that his only 
child was slipping away from him out into the un- 
known. Sinking into a chair by the bedside, Dr. 
Miller buried his face in his hands and wept. 

“ Papa — papa, please do not grieve so ; I will be 
so much better there ; do not make it so hard to 
leave you,” said Katie. She reached out her 
wasted hand and laid it upon the bowed head in a 
loving caress. 

“ Forgive me, my darling child. It is well thus. 
You will be at rest ; but oh ! how we will miss 
you ! ” And again the father bowed his head in 
grief. 

“ It is His will, papa.” 

“Yes, Katie, we must submit. Rest now, little 
one ; you may feel stronger in the morning.” 

Katie gropingly reached for her father’s hand. 
He understood her meaning, and placed it upon 
the pillow. She rested her cheek upon the open 
palm. Her eyes closed as if in sleep, and her 
lips moved as if in prayer. Stooping over her, 
he heard her say : 

“ ‘ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the 
shadow of death, I shall fear no evil : for Thou art 


KATIE’S DEATH. 


207 


with me : Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort 
me,’ ” and then the lips were motionless, and Katie 
slept while the father watched. It was the sleep 
through which the pure spirit escaped from its 
prison and winged its way heavenward. 

Dr. Miller sank upon his knees by the little 
bedside, and in anguish of spirit cried the prayer 
of the Man of sorrows, “ ‘ If it be Thy will, O 
Father, let this cup pass from me.’ ” 

The Father knows our needs, and the sorrow of 
the believing soul is the divine smelter in which 
the child of God is purified and made fit for His 
kingdom. The prayers for deliverance are not 
always answered, and the Father’s rod ofttimes rests 
heavily upon the faithful. 

Dr. Miller had that faith which reaches out and 
bridges the gulf between time and eternity and 
brings heaven near ; he had learned to penetrate 
the gloom which enveloped him, and could see the 
bright hope beyond ; he knew the joy of sorrow. 
He rose from the bedside of his lifeless child a 
stronger man. He gazed long and tenderly upon 
the placid features of little Katie, and then straight- 
ening the covers and smoothing the pillows, he 
stooped and kissed the forehead and left what re- 
mained of one who had been so dear to him in the 
hands of loving friends. 


2o8 


THE WIEL and the WAY. 


Jean had often longed for a sister’s love, and 
after she had known Katie she had taken her into 
her heart, and the void was filled. When she found 
that Katie no longer needed her, that her newly- 
found sister and friend had been taken to her long 
home, she wept bitterly. 

‘‘Miss Meile, why did God take Katie?” cried 
Jean through her tears. “ We all loved her and 
needed her. It is wrong.” 

“No, Jean, yon reason selfishly,” replied Miss 
Meile. “ True we all loved little Katie, and no one 
could have been taken who would be missed more, 
but we should rejoice to know that she suffers no 
longer. Let us follow her noble example in our 
sorrow, and bear it patiently. We may cherish her 
memory and take to ourselves the many lessons she 
so effectively taught in her every-day life, and we 
may become more like the Saviour whom Katie 
loved so much, and whose love so richly influenced 
her life and moulded the beautiful character which 
we knew.” 

Jean grew calmer while Miss Meile was speaking, 
but she did not reply. Miss Meile came nearer and 
took Jean’s hand into her own ; with eyes overflow- 
ing with tears she said : 

“ Oh ! Jean, will you not try to do the one thing 
Katie so much desired — will you not give yourself 


KATIE’S DEATH. 


209 

to the Saviour whom Katie loved? The grave 
holds no terrors for those who believe.” 

Miss Meile left Jean to herself and went to her 
own room, where she lingered long in prayer for 
the grief-stricken father, that the balm of God’s 
love might reach the wounded heart ; for Jean, that 
this sorrow of separation from her friend might be 
the means of bringing her into the true way. 

A gloom settled down over the college. Dr. 
Hegel, with unsteady voice, made the formal an- 
nouncement that no classes would meet upon the 
day set aside for the burial. 

In the college chapel, where it was decided to 
meet in Katie’s honor, loving hands twined garlands 
of evergreen and holly. And when the white 
casket was carried in by Katie’s classmates, it was 
completely covered with the roses Katie loved. 

In Katie’s death she received the answer to many 
prayers. When Dr. Hegel spoke of the beautiful 
life of their young friend, Christian students wept 
and resolved to live more nearly like Katie, and 
students who had never known a serious thought 
determined to begin life anew and follow the teach- 
ings of the Master whom Katie served. Katie had 
passed from the sight of those who knew and loved 
her, but she had not passed out of their lives. The 
influence of her devout Christian character was 

14 


210 


THE WILE and the way. 


destined to live on long after the memory of her 
presence had faded from the minds of friends and 
classmates. 

The evening after the funeral Jean sat long in 
Miss Meile’s room. She thought of the mound 
covered with evergreens in the cemetery, and she 
could not refrain from giving expression to the 
rebellious thoughts which were embittering her 
soul. 

“ Miss Meile, why did the Lord give Dr. Miller a 
daughter if He meant to take her from him so 
soon ? ’’ she asked. 

“ Jean, you have a wholly wrong idea of death. 
There is no death to the Christian : it is only a 
transition. Katie is not lost to Dr. Miller ; his 
faith in the future has already lightened his sorrow ; 
he is already looking forward to the reunion. It is 
when we come to the grave that the Christian has 
hope, and sees above and beyond his grief the 
Father’s hand. There is joy in a Christian’s sor- 
row in proportion to his faith — his hope.” 

After a thoughtful silence. Miss Meile continued : 

“ I sometimes wonder how the unbelieving can 
part from their dead. To sever the cords that bind 
them to their loved ones, and to lay them away for- 
ever in the cold earth, is so much harder than to 
give them over to a kind Father and an Elder 


KATIE’S DEATH. 


2II 


Brother, who has already suffered for them in 
love.” 

Miss Meile came nearer to Jean and laid a gentle 
hand upon her head. 

‘‘ I cannot believe that you have buried Katie 
forever, Jean ; something tells me that you have 
resolved to meet our little friend again ; that you 
will follow her loving example, and take upon your 
young strong shoulders the work which she has left. 
The place you hold in the estimation of your school- 
mates will enable you to do this, Jean, and your 
possibilities for good are even greater than were 
Katie’s. God grant that you use them aright.” 

Miss Meile had appealed to Jean’s better side. 
That she owed something to others religiously, 
that her actions could influence others to do good, 
would make her come to a decision more readily. 
To take up Katie’s work, however, seemed to her 
impossible, and she felt that the void of Katie’s 
presence would never be filled in Fenwick Hall. 


CHAPTER XX. 


CHRISTMAS AT THE FARM. 

Happiness is much more equally divided than some of us 
imagine. One man shall possess most of the materials, but lit- 
tle of the thing ; another may possess much of the thing, but 
very few of the materials.” — Colton, 

Lottie, Jean, Dick, and Karl were among the 
first to leave the campus for the Christmas vaca- 
tion. Jack decided to remain with Dr. Miller in 
the office. In reply to Jean’s objections, he had 
answered : 

“ When I found that Dr. Miller would be all alone 
in the office and in his rooms, I could not go and 
leave him ; it would be very lonely for him. It is 
but very little that I am doing in return for all the 
kindness he has shown me. 

“ Tell the folks at home that I will be home on 
Christmas day, and you may remind Katherine of 
the fact that I missed my Thanksgiving dinner.” 

Jack’s answer pleased Jean. It was more like the 
Jack of former days. Jean had missed the naturally 
kind and jovial spirit of her brother since she had 
come to school. 


(212) 


CHRISTMAS AT THK FARM. 213 

“ How good of the faculty,” said I^ottie, to let 
our vacation commence on Thursday when Christ- 
mas will not be here until next week — Tuesday.” 
She settled her baggage comfortably and took her 
seat by the side of Jean in the moving car. 

‘‘ I heard Dr. Hegel say that it would be neces- 
sary in order to enable all the students to reach 
home without traveling on Sunday,” said Dick over 
the back of the seat just in front of the two girls. 

‘‘ For my part, I could never see the harm in my 
riding on the cars on Sunday ; the trains go and 
come just the same, whether I go or not,” said 
Lottie. ‘‘I am heartily glad, though, that Dr. 
Hegel thinks differently.” 

“ The trains do go and come, but Christian peo- 
ple cannot consistently employ what they must 
condemn,” said Karl. Hundreds of trainmen are 
compelled to work even harder on Sunday than 
they do on ordinary week-days because of the rap- 
idly-growing custom of going on excursions and 
pleasure trips on that day. It ceases to be a day 
of rest.” 

“ But if all Christian people were to stop riding 
on Sunday there would still be enough, with no 
more reverence for one day than they have for an- 
other, to keep the cars running,” persisted Lottie. 

“ The same is true of many other evils, but it is 


214 


THK WII.I. AND THE WAY. 


none the less our duty to throw the weight of our 
influence, however light it may be, upon the side of 
right,” replied Karl. 

‘‘ See ! ” cried Lottie, who had no desire to carry 
the argument further, “it is snowing ; won’t that 
be grand — the ride through the snow, I mean ? I 
enjoy having the great feathery flakes settle down 
and completely cover me.” 

Conversation lagged after the friends were 
entered upon the homeward way. 

Karl was thinking of the home in the far West, 
where he would be sadly missed. He was grateful 
for that brotherly cordiality with which Dick had 
tendered the hospitality of the farm, which had en- 
abled him to escape the dreariness of a Christmas at 
the empty hall. He could not help wishing, how- 
ever, that the journey might end in his own home 
instead of the home of his friend. 

Jean was occupied with the events which had 
taken place since scarce four weeks before she had 
gone over the same road. The work of the new 
term and Katie’s death had so entered into her life 
that she seemed to herself to have changed much. 
She had never been brought near to death before, 
and Katie was the first tie which bound her to the 
unknown world to which she had seldom given 
thought. Her whole soul went out in sympathy to 


CHRISTMAS AT THE FARM. 215 

the lonely father in the empty rooms at College 
Hall, and she was truly grateful that Jack had been 
so thoughtful. Jean knew that Christmas must 
have been a very happy time in the Miller home 
when Katie had been well enough to enjoy it. 
She fell to wondering what it would seem like to 
have a Christmas such as Katie and Lottie had fre- 
quently mentioned as the Christmas of their child- 
hood. 

In Farmer Andrews’ home, Christmas, like 
Thanksgiving and family birthdays, was the time 
when John and Jack had always been expected 
home to partake of Katherine’s unusually fine din- 
ner ; aside from that, there had never been a Christ- 
mas demonstration of any kind. Christmas gifts 
had never been exchanged, and Christmas trees 
were regarded as savoring of the world. 

Dick had also changed in the four short weeks. 
Since his conversation with the Rev. Simons he had 
fully decided to attain to the full stature of man- 
hood, of which he had thought much. He had 
had several talks with Karl, and, lastly, a long pri- 
vate talk with Dr. Hegel, in which he had learned 
to turn the search-light of self-investigation into his 
own soul, and he had been made to realize how 
much he lacked of true manhood. Dick had gained 
through little Katie’s death. Sincere repentance 


2i6 


THE WIEL AND THE WAY. 


was followed by earnest resolutions, and his 
name had appeared upon the roll, with others, for 
admission to church membership upon the first 
Communion Sunday in the new year. He knew 
what opposition he might encounter at home, but 
had decided to honestly ask for and to win, if pos- 
sible, his parents’ consent to the step which he was 
about to take. Karl knew what was hidden in 
Dick’s heart, and he did not question him. 

It was not until they were cozily wrapped in the 
warm robes which Fred had brought for their com- 
fort in the large sleigh that the four young friends, 
away from study and books for one whole fortnight, 
began to appreciate and enjoy their freedom. The 
snow-flakes were falling thickly about them, and 
the sleigh-bells’ cheerful jingle soon banished de- 
pressed spirits, and it was a happy party that drew 
up before the old farm-house. 

Karl and Lottie were welcomed heartily ; even 
Katherine was glad to see that Dick and Jean had 
brought their friends, when she came to take charge 
of the snow-covered wraps. As the days passed 
Lottie won her way into the hearts of her new 
friends ; she played chess with Rob and Fred ; she 
criticised Rob’s drawings ; snow-balled with both 
the boys ; she visited the barn and praised the 
farmer’s horses in appreciative terms, which capti- 


CHRISTMAS AT THE FARM. 217 

vated their owner. Katherine was surprised and 
pleased to have the young lady visit her domain 
and don one of her large kitchen aprons and assist 
in the work, while she drew from the maid tales of 
Christmas-time in the fatherland. The mother 
found it pleasant to have the restless curly head 
near her side, while Lottie, seated on an ottoman, 
wound yarn from Dick’s hands, and it seemed that 
she had never found greater pleasure in relating the 
incidents of her own maidenhood, for the delight 
with which Lottie listened to the mother’s quaint 
language was so evident and unaffected that it was 
refreshing. 

Lively and witty, but kind-hearted and gentle ; 
not at all rude, as I had feared from Jack’s letters. 
She has taken us by storm,” was Aunt Jo’s com- 
ment when Jean asked her how she liked Lottie. 

Even Aunt Jo was surprised when Lottie gained 
permission from Mother Andrews to celebrate 
Christmas in the farm-house. Lottie went to 
work energetically, and made the most of the 
short time left for her purpose. Rob and Fred 
were her willing servants, and Katherine became 
a faithful ally. They strung yards of popcorn 
at Lottie’s request, and brought her whole arm- 
fuls of branches from the generous supply of 
evergreens on the farm. Even Farmer Andrews 


2i8 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


entered into the spirit of the scheme, and declared 
that the tree which had been planted near the barn 
two years before had always been in his w^ay, and 
if it would answer Lottie’s purpose Dick might cut 
it down, and, when Dick was about to start for the 
city to meet Jack, the farmer called him aside and 
gave him a liberal supply of money to be used in 
buying some present for each. 

“ It will make it seem more like the Christmas 
she has been used to, and there can be no more 
harm in giving presents on Christmas than there is 
on any other day,” he said. 

Dick conferred with Lottie in regard to the pur- 
chases. Lottie had already noted the desires and 
inclinations of each member of the family, and, 
when Dick returned, there were safely hidden under 
the seat packages and parcels according to Lottie’s 
directions. He had added a pair of skates for 
Lottie herself, for he had heard her deplore the fact 
that she had none. 

Lottie and Jean were most ageeably surprised 
when Jack arrived, accompanied by Dr. Miller. 

‘‘ I could not leave him all alone in the rooms 
where he had had his Christmas with Katie last 
year,” Jack explained to Aunt Jo. 

Lottie yielded her chair at the table to the unex- 
pected guest, and silenced Jean’s objections with a 


CHRISTMAS AT THE FARM. 


219 


knowing look. After all were served Katherine 
followed Lottie into the sitting-room, and together 
they carried the basket, which Dick had placed upon 
the side-porch, into the large parlor, where the tree 
which was to bear and yield its strange fruit had 
already been transferred in some mysterious man- 
ner. 

‘‘ Now we must work fast,” said Lottie, as she 
undid the packages ; and Katherine proceeded to 
fasten the tapers here and there, wherever they 
would be needed to light the tree. Lottie pushed 
toward her a box of ornaments and the basket of 
popcorn which the boys had strung. 

“ This is work that I love,” said Katherine ; “ it 
makes me think of home, where we used to make 
so much of Christmas. The father and mother had 
not much money, but we had lots of v/hat we called 
‘ Weinachts liebe,’ and it was a happy home on 
Christmas eve.” 

“ Money is not needed to make a happy Christ- 
mas,” said Lottie. ‘‘ The best Christmas that I can 
remember was when papa could not draw his sal- 
ary, and mamma had nothing for me but a home- 
made rag-doll and some candy.” 

Lottie felt a lump rise in her throat when she re- 
membered the little parsonage in the mountains of 
Pennsylvania, where the Christmas tree with its 


220 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


simple presents was awaiting the family’s return 
from the little frame church at the cross-roads. She 
knew that the father and mother would miss their 
only daughter when, with the noisy boys, they 
would gather about the tree. Hidden in her room 
upstairs was a package which Dr. Miller had given 
her. Lottie had decided to keep it until the last, in 
order that she might enjoy it the more. 

That is beautiful, Katherine ; one could know 
that you came from the land of Christmas trees by 
the arrangement ! ” exclaimed Lottie, while stand- 
ing in the furthest corner of the room she surveyed 
the tree. 

‘‘No, I do not like large presents on the tree,” 
she continued, in reply to Katherine’s questioning 
look. “ They look so clumsy. I think I would 
place them here,” and Lottie took a box of paints 
and artists’ brushes out of Katherine’s hands and 
placed it near the foot of the tree. She left 
Katherine to finish the task of arrangement, and 
hastened up to her room for her own contribution 
of modest gifts. Lottie had early learned the true 
spirit of Christmas giving, and had remembered 
each one with some trifling product of her own 
fingers ; but for the mother she had crocheted a 
slumber robe of bright colors exquisitely blended. 


CHRISTMAS AT THE EARM. 


221 


We will not light the tree, Katherine,” said 
Lottie, when all was done ; “we have not had our 
supper yet, and the workman is worthy of his 
hire. Maybe Jack and Dick have some additions 
to make.” 

“If everything is ready, we will go this way,” 
continued Lottie, as she turned down the lamp and 
opened the door into the front hall, which was sel- 
dom used by the family. “ They will not come in 
if they think we are busy here.” 

Lottie and Katherine passed out upon the piazza 
and entered the now deserted dining-room. 

It would have been hard for Robbie and Fred to 
curb their impatience longer, when Katherine 
finally lighted the tapers, and the family was 
ushered into the room radiant with Christmas 
light. 

“ How beautiful ! ” exclaimed the mother, whom 
Lottie had wheeled inside the door. “ Thou art a 
genius, Lottie.” 

“A veritable magician to bring all this about,” 
said Jack. 

The family, unused to gifts, was satisfied with 
the beauty of the scene, and expected nothing fur- 
ther. Surprises were in store for them. Un- 
noticed by the others, Lottie, Jean, Jack, and Dick 


222 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


had gathered about the organ and the sweet music 
of that old Christmas hymn, which is sung in every 
clime and every tongue, filled the room : 


Come hither, ye faithful, triumphantly sing ; 

Come see in the manger the angel’s dread King ; 

To Bethlehem haste with joyful accord ! 

Oh ! come ye, come hither to worship the Eord.” 

The familiar melody made old Jacob and Kath- 
erine’s eyes grow moist. They had tender recollec- 
tions of the times when in their respective homes 
they had sung that same air in their native tongues : 
Katherine in the home and language of the great 
Luther, and Jacob amid the rocks and hills which 
boasted a Gustavus Adolphus. 

At the close of the hymn Jack took up Lottie’s 
violin and picked a few chords, and Lottie sang the 
anthem which she had used in the Christmas service 
in the church the previous year. It had never had 
such a meaning for the singer before. To-night she 
was trying to bring into this country home the lov- 
ing Christ child. She wanted the children in that 
home to know and feel the influences which had 
rendered her own childhood so happy, and uncon- 
sciously she added beauty and sweetness to the 
melody as she sang in her unselfish manner : 


Unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given ; ” 


CHRISTMAS AT THE FARM. 


223 


and the triumphant strain with which she 
closed : 

“And His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The 
mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.*’ 

‘‘You have excelled yourself to-night, Miss Har- 
rington,” said Jack. 

It was the first time that Lottie had heard a word 
of commendation from Jack, and the surprise with 
which she received it was unfeigned. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Andrews ; I know how to ap- 
preciate that, for I know that praise falls not lightly 
from your lips.” 

From the opposite side of the room Fred stepped 
up near the tree and gave the Christmas recitation 
which he had learned for the Sunday-school cele- 
bration in the village the following night. Jack 
yielded to Lottie’s quiet entreaty, and followed as 
naturally with a violin solo, as if he had been part 
of the programme. Rob took his stand in front of 
the tree and spoke briefly of the Christmas-tide, 
the significance of the evergreen, and the custom of 
giving gifts to those whom we love in memory of 
God’s gift to us. The words had been well chosen, 
and conveyed the thoughts which Lottie hoped to 
introduce into that home on Christmas eve. 

Katherine and Jean distributed the gifts. Each 


224 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY* 


one had been remembered, even baby Marguerite, 
who had come to see the first Christmas tree in her 
grandparents’ home. 

“ I have a present of my own for Jean,” said the 
old farmer, as he drew from his vest pocket a neat 
gold necklace, with a tiny locket attached. 

Jean uttered an exclamation of delight when she 
pressed the spring and saw before her the pictured 
faces of her father and mother. 

“ How did you get mother’s picture? ” she asked 
in astonishment. 

‘‘ The pictures are Rob’s work with his new 
camera,” replied the farmer ; ‘‘ the idea was Aunt 
Josephine’s, and the locket and chain were mine.” 

“ I do believe that next to my going to school I 
wanted a locket ; but how did you guess it ? ” asked 
Jean. 

“ That is our secret, sis,” laughed Fred. 

“ I am indebted to you all for a very happy 
Christmas,” said Dr. Miller, as he bade them good- 
night. 

I think he meant it,” said Lottie to Jean, when 
they were alone in their room, “ and I am so glad.” 

‘‘ Lottie, I thought you meant that beautiful robe 
for your father,” said Jean. 

‘‘Not that one, but the one just like it,” replied 
Lottie ; “ and now I must see what my Christmas 


CHRISTMAS AT THE FARM. 225 

from home is. I was afraid that it would make me 
homesick, and I did not want to open the box be- 
fore we had our tree.’’ 

Lottie, have you always had such a Christmas 
as we have had to-night? ” asked Jean. 

“Yes, ever since I can remember ; and the hard- 
est trial of my school-life has been my forced ab- 
sence from home on this night,” said Lottie. “ I 
have no doubt but that it is the loneliest night in 
the year in homes where the children are away. I 
am so glad Jack brought Dr. Miller with him.” 

“ You never told me, Lottie, why you came so 
far from home to go to school,” said Jean. 

“ Because it is easier for me to earn my own 
way here in the West,” replied Lottie. 

Dick and Karl sat by the bright fire for some 
time after the others had retired for the night. 

“ It does not seem as if anything could be 
altogether impossible after to-night,” remarked 
Dick. “We have never had a Christmas here 
before.” 

“ I was pleased to see how your mother enjoyed 
it,” said Karl. 

“ Mother has broadened wonderfully under Aunt 
Jo’s influence, and Lottie is just the person to sug- 
gest improvements upon Aunt Jo’s method. I had 
to smile at mother’s evident pleasure in the bright 

15 


226 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


afghan. Heretofore everything belonging to liei 
has been decidedly sombre,” said Dick. 

‘‘ I think that if you were to confide in Lottie 
she would make it easier for you to approach your 
father in regard to your own plans,” remarked Karl.. 

‘‘No, Karl ; you are usually right and your advice 
is generally good ; but in this matter you are all 
wrong. I want a good long talk with father, and 
Want his voluntary consent,” said Dick. 

“ What if he should refuse? ” suggested Karl. 

“ I cannot believe that he will at all oppose me 
in the matter of uniting with the church ; he is too 
generous for that ; but the preparation for the min- 
istry will be a hard point for him to yield. When 
he let me go to college it was with a semi-expressed 
hope that eventually I would return to the farm-life 
here. He has little love for a professional life, and 
least of all for the ministry,” said Dick. 

“ How about your mother? ” asked Karl. 

“ Mother will object to everything, as a matter of 
course ; that grieves me sorely. I will do all that I 
can to make it easier for her, and time will recon- 
cile her to my course,” replied Dick. 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE farmer’s consent. 

“ This is Thy work, Almighty Providence ! 

Whose power beyond the stretch of human 
Thought revolves the orbs of empires. ’ ’ 

— Thomson. 

Christmas morning broke clear and cold. 
“ Come, Jean and Lottie, and see the sun dogs,” 
called Robbie from the porch, while stamping his 
feet to keep them warm. 

“Just the morning to try my new skates,” said 
Lottie. 

“Rather the morning to try Katherine’s muf- 
fins,” said Jack, “and there is the bell ; not nearly 
so loud, but infinitely more musical than the break- 
fast bell we have been accustomed to.” 

“ There are no services in the village this morn- 
ing?” inquired Dick. 

“ No,” replied Fred, who regarded himself as 
authority since he was to be a part of the evening’s 
entertainment. 


(227) 


2^8 


THE WIEE and the way. 


“ We are going out to the mill to skate/’ an- 
nounced Rob. 

‘‘And who are ‘we ? ’ pray tell,” inquired Dick. 

“ Oh, lyottie, Jean, Fred, and myself. You and 
Karl can go too if you care to,” answered Rob. 

“A most gracious condescension, since Karl can- 
not skate and I have not the wherewith,” laughed 
Dick. “No, thank you. Master Robert. Karl 
wishes to write home, and I will divide my time 
between mother and Katherine.” 

“Father and Dr. Miller seem to have enough 
amusement on hand,” said Dick, inclining his head 
toward the parlor, where Farmer Andrews and his 
guest were discussing some evangelical point in 
theology. 

Dr. Miller was much surprised to find the farmer 
so well read and so thoroughly conversant with the 
themes which were engaging the scholars of the 
day. 

The farmer enjoyed the rare opportunity which 
Dr. Miller’s presence afforded him. 

Dick called at the parsonage ; his visit was 
necessarily short, but it was far more satisfactory 
than had been his former one. In Dick’s avowed 
purpose of publicly entering upon a new life had 
come the answer to many prayers which had been 
offered in his behalf in the pastor’s study. The 


THE farmer’s consent. 22 g 

minister’s voice trembled with emotion when he 
congratulated him upon his resolution. 

I trust, Dick, that you will meet with less op- 
position at home than you anticipate. The same 
Providence which plans our lives aids us in over- 
coming the difficulties,” said the young man at the 
gate, whither he had accompanied Dick. 

“ I wish I could see my way clear,” said Dick, 
smoothing Beauty’s neck with the butt end of his 
riding whip. 

“ The ministry does not serve your purpose in 
your own case as readily as it did in Jean’s diffi- 
culty,” said the pastor with a merry twinkle in his 
eye. 

“ I have felt thoroughly ashamed of that, and 
since I dare not beg father’s or Jean’s pardon I sin- 
cerely ask yours, Mr. Simons ; that is, for the part 
I had you play in it,” said Dick. ‘‘As for the the- 
ory or principle, I did believe just what I said, and 
the ministry is not exactly the life I would have 
chosen for myself at that time.” 

“ I am sure, Dick, I am ready to pardon you. I 
fell into the scheme readily, and it afforded me no 
little amusement.” 

“ What ! did you know what Jack and I were up 
to?” exclaimed Dick. 

“ Certainly. I understood exactly what role I 


230 THE WIEIv AND THE WAY. 

was to play after my first visit, and I am heartily 
glad that all has ended so well.’’ 

“ It has not ended yet,” said Dick, and he 
mounted his horse and rode away. 

‘‘Remember, I depend upon you to-night,” said 
the minister. 

“We will be there,” called Dick. 

Providence does smooth the difficulties in the 
way of those who aim to lead righteous lives. It 
must have been Providence which led Dr. Miller 
and Farmer Andrews to discuss doctrinal differ- 
ences that Christmas morning in a most amiable 
spirit. Farmer Andrews readily granted that each 
one should be allowed to follow his own convic- 
tions in religious matters. 

“ W^ould you make that concession in the case of 
a member of your own family ? ” asked Dr. Miller. 

“ Most assuredly,” answered the farmer. “ I will 
never oppose my children in such a matter.” 

“ I am so glad to know this, Mr. Andrews ; for 
Dick has something to say to you before he returns 
to us, and I had feared that you might not approve 
of his intentions,” said Dr. Miller. 

Farmer Andrews regarded his guest in astonish- 
ment. He had advanced a theory, and was now 
confronted v/ith a fact. But Farmer Andrews was 
a practical man, and a theory which could not be 


THE farmer’s consent. 


231 


put to use was no longer to be considered, and if 
Dick had convictions of his own he would not be 
interfered with. 

“ Dr. Miller, I assure you that Dick may follow 
his own convictions, so long as he is not in the 
wrong 

‘‘ But who is to judge the right or the wrong of 
Dick’s convictions? We are but guided by our 
own, and we are by no means infallible,” urged 
Br. Miller. 

That is true ; and, so far as religious matters 
are concerned, I would never interfere ; when it 
comes to the choice of a profession it might be a 
different matter,” said the farmer. 

‘^And what if religious convictions were to enter 
into the choice of a profession with Dick?” asked 
Dr. Miller. 

Farmer Andrews was startled. 

“ Do you mean to tell me that my boy is think- 
ing of the ministry ? ” he asked. “It is impossi- 
ble. Dick is not so foolish as that. He need not 
be a farmer if he does not like farm-life, but he 
would never make such a mistake as to turn 
preacher. Why Dick has the making of a fine 
lawyer in him,” said the farmer excitedly. 

“Yes, indeed ; and he has all the possibilities of 
a good preacher also. The ministry needs just such 


232 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


young men as Dick. Jack is taking to law, wliy 
not let Dick become a leading light in another line 
of work? You already have one farmer, and 
Freddie told me this morning that he was going to 
be a physician. Robert needs no encouragement 
to develop the artist’s soul with which he is en- 
dowed. What a family to be proud of ! ” exclaimed 
Dr. Miller. 

Dr. Miller had unconsciously struck upon 
Farmer Andrews’ weak point. He was proud of 
his children — proud of their attainments, and 
prouder still of their possibilities. 

“ Well, whatever they decide upon, whether it is 
to be a doctor, lawyer, farmer, or preacher, I want 
them to do their very best,” replied the farmer. 

“ That is right ! ” exclaimed Dr. Miller, “ and no 
one can do his best unless it is in the work of his 
choice.” 

“ If Dick takes to the pulpit, I hope he will do 
well, though I am honest enough to say that I will 
be very sorry to see him go that way.” 

“But you will consent to his choice?” asked 
Dr. Miller. 

“ If he asks my consent — yes,” answered the 
farmer. 

“ I beg your pardon for the manner in which I 
have urged this matter. It might seem that, for a 


THE farmer’s consent. 


233 


disinterested party, I have been meddlesome. I 
have never had a son of my own, and Jack and 
Dick have grown very dear to me. I have more 
than an ordinary interest in their w^elfare,” said 
Dr. Miller. 

The party of skaters returned from the mill-pond 
and hastened to warm their benumbed fingers at 
the parlor fire. Karl joined the noisy group. Fur- 
ther conversation was rendered impossible. To 
Farmer Andrews it was a relief. He wanted time 
to think it over. That Dick should decide upon the 
ministry, however, seemed to him impossible. He 
still hoped that there might be some mistake, and 
decided to wait until Dick himself would approach 
him concerning it. 

Katherine announced that dinner was served just 
as Dick entered. 

“ I have made an engagement for the whole fam- 
ily, save mother and Aunt Jo,” said Dick. 

What ? Where ? ” exclaimed the party around 
the fire in a chorus. 

‘‘ Rev. Simons has had hard luck in getting up 
his entertainment for to-night. This family has 
always served him heretofore in an emergency, and 
to-night will be no exception. In addition to 
Fred’s recitation, there will be the violin solo, the 
hymn, and the anthem which so completely capti- 


234 


THE WIEE and the way. 


vated the audience last night. Dr. Miller and 
father will kindly lend their genial countenances 
to the success of the occasion. There, the entire 
scheme is exploded/’ and Dick sank into the nearest 
chair, as if from sheer exhaustion. 

‘‘ What a programme ! Dick Andrews, I wanted 
to go and enjoy myself, and now I will have to sit 
on the front seat and tremblingly await my turn,” 
laughed Lottie. 

‘‘You will not mind it, Lottie,” said Jean. 
“ Really you could never guess how hard it is for 
Mr. Simons to have an entertainment of any kind. 
He will think everything nearly ready when every 
imaginable misfortune happens to his talent. 
What is the trouble this time, Dick ? ” 

“ Troubles, you mean. Well, Sarah Dale has a 
sore throat ; Tommy Davis has the measles ; 
Andrew Harris slipped on the ice and sprained his 
ankle, and so on to the end of the chapter,” said 
Dick. 

“We will go,” said Lottie. 


CHAPTER XXIL 


dick’s resolution. 

“ Now I resolve with all my heart, 

With all my power to serve the Lord ; 

Nor from His ways will I depart, 

Whose service is a rich reward. ’ ’ 

— Steele. 

The bright winter sun shone radiantly through 
the stained windows of Christ’s Church and bathed 
the beautiful altar hangings in its glory. Tlie 
Christmas evergreens were still fresh. Potted palms 
and cut flowers, tastefully arranged, added their 
beauty and fragrance to the house of God. The 
last tones of the great bell in the steeple were dying- 
out with a lingering sweetness, as if the call to wor- 
ship had been unusually pleasant on this the first 
Sunday in the new year. 

A hush fell upon the audience already gathered, 
scarce broken by the soft tread of feet passing down 
the carpeted aisles. 

The rich tones of the organ, soft and mellow at 
first, became gradually louder and more decided, 
and then rang out triumphantly, as if heralding the 

(235) 


236 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

victory of the souls about to take upon themselves 
the vows of consecration. 

Lottie and Jack were in their places ; the latter 
was uneasily watching those entering the rear of 
the church, as if expecting someone. The door 
leading into the pastor’s study opened and Dr. 
Hegel, together with Rev. Eisle, the pastor it 
charge, entered the church and took their places on 
either side of the altar table, snowy in its Commm- 
nion Sunday coverings. There followed from the 
study, single file, a number of young men, who 
passed in front of the chancel and took the seats 
reserved for them. 

Jack’s eager glance ran down the line until it 
rested upon Dick. He gazed long and thoughtfully 
upon the face of his brother, who was about to 
enter upon a new life, and then, searching the 
audience, his eyes again rested upon Jean in Dr. 
Miller’s pew. 

The organ stopped, and Jack found himself with 
the singers facing the audience. Dick’s decided 
step, while not wholly unexpected, had none the 
less moved Jack and caused him to think longingly 
of the time in his first school year when he had 
been inclined to do likewise ; his thoughts wandered 
to Jean, questioningly — would she yield to the influ- 
ences about her, as had Dick, or would she too 


dick’s rksodution. 


237 

resist? He was conscious of a desire upon his 
part that Jean might follow Dick’s example. 

Jack’s mind ran back through the years when he 
and Dick sat side by side in the village Sunday-school 
class, and this morning he recalled the words of the 
teacher to whom they had both listened, urging 
them to give their young hearts to their blessed 
Saviour. 

He was strangely overcome by these recollections, 
and it was with unsteady voice that he endeavored 
to sing his part of the anthem of praise. 

The sermon of the morning v/as for those who 
had newly resolved to live nearer Christ ; firstly, 
those old in His service, and, lastly, those about to 
pledge their faith. It was a sermon full of encour- 
agement and advice from one grown old in the 
cause of the Master. The old and much-beloved 
college president seldom spoke better. The fact that 
he was about to lay his hand upon the heads of so 
many of his students, in the sacred rites of confirma- 
tion and holy baptism, had opened the flood-gates 
of his heart, and the stream of love, rich with the 
experiences of a devout life, poured forth. 

Jean listened intently, and when at last she saw 
Dick kneel with the others at the altar, and when 
later she saw his hand touch the sacred cup, she 
felt that Dick had entered upon a life which she 


238 


THE WIEE and the way. 


did not know, and that a something had crept be- 
tween and separated them. 

The service at last was over. Jean was too timid 
to approach Dick, and, with Lottie, she left the 
church. Jack spoke no idle words of congratula- 
tion, but Dick knew that the warm pressure of his 
brother’s hand meant more than words, and the 
gratitude which he felt, when he realized that the 
fear of incurring Jack’s displeasure had been un- 
grounded, caused his eyes to fill with tears as he 
returned his brother’s greeting. 

“ I thank you. Jack,” said Dick, and Jack under- 
stood his brother’s feelings. 

Jean walked home with Lottie and Dr. Miller. 
The latter had been very observing and understood 
her troubled look, and when at the entrance to 
Fenwick Hall he halted to bid them good-bye, he 
held Jean’s hand in his own for a moment, as he 
said : 

“ Jean, you are troubled about many things. 
Dick has chosen the better part. May God help 
you to choose aright.” 

Dr. Miller had taken Jean into his heart as a 
daughter. He had a warm place for Dick and 
Lottie, but it was to Jack and Jean that he turned 
in his loneliness. “ My son and my daughter by 
adoption,” he fondly called them. He welcomed 


dick’s resolution. 


239 


Dick with all his heart among the followers of the 
lowly Nazarene, but he greatly longed to gather 
Jack and Jean into the same fold. 

Lottie had not witnessed the morning service un- 
moved. She herself had long since taken the con- 
firmation vows, but she had grown in a manner 
indifferent in her religious life. Her close associa- 
tion with Katie had awakened her to a sense of her 
responsibility as a professing Christian to the world 
in general and her duty toward those of the same 
household of faith in particular. It was Katie’s 
influence that caused Lottie to use the talent with 
which God had endowed her in His service in the 
church of her fathers. Lottie was moved still more 
by the sermon of the morning and the vows which 
the young men, some her classmates, had taken 
upon themselves. She left the church with a firmly- 
grounded resolution to be a more active Christian 
than she had ever been before, and to seek the good 
which she might do. 

It was late in the afternoon of the Sabbath day 
when there was a gentle rap on the outside door 
leading to the minister’s study in Christ’s Church. 
Lottie knew that it was near the hour when those 
wishing the pastor’s help might consult him with- 
out interruption. 

‘‘ Why, Miss Harrington ; I am delighted to see 


240 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


you ! ” said the minister, cordially. He had regarded 
Lottie with unusual interest ; he recognized her 
latent talent for church work, and wished much to 
interest her in that which he knew would result in 
good both to herself and to others. 

“ I have come. Rev. Eisle, to tell you that I will 
take charge of that primary class next Sunday, if 
you wish it,” said Lottie, hurriedly, as if fearing 
that she might change her mind. 

I do wish it very much, and I am sure you will 
find the work very pleasant. You v/ill have four 
assistants. Miss Harrington, and I trust everything 
will move off nicely.” 

“ I suppose I ought attend the teachers’ meet- 
ings ? ” asked Lottie, hesitatingly. 

‘‘ Certainly ; that is, if you can find the time. I 
am always lenient with my students, for I realize 
how precious their study hours are. I ask as little 
as possible from them, and appreciate their services 
very much,” said the minister. 

“ I want you to require it of me, though I do not 
like teachers’ meetings, and I want to make myself 
like them.” Lottie spoke rapidly. 

The pastor looked at her searchingly for a moment. 

‘‘ I think I understand you. Miss Harrington. I 
will require it, and may you get the help you need 
in the work of the Master.” 


dick’s rksodution. 


241 


Lottie hastened home and the minister entered 
his study. It was some time before he could banish 
Lottie and her strange request from his mind. 

The week following the Sunday service passed 
rapidly. Lottie attended the teachers’ meetings and 
forced herself to speak pleasantly of it to Jean, 
when her first impulse had been to call it stupid. 
She had a feeling of regret when she heard the last 
class bell on Friday afternoon. She had no recita- 
tion herself at that hour, but it meant for her that 
another unpleasant resolution must be carried out. 

‘‘You may as well make up your mind to it, 
Lottie Harrington,” she said to herself, as she took 
down her crocheting and seated herself comfortably 
in her little rocker. “ Katie’s meetings must be 
carried on, and you will have to do your part. I 
know the girls will open their eyes, big and round, 
but, Lottie Harrington, you are under discipline, 
and you will lead none the less. Her fingers plied 
the needle energetically. 

“ Lottie Harrington, you are going to be of some 
use in the world. You have been having too much 
of a good time all along while others did the work. 
You wanted a church and a Sunday school ; but 
you were more than willing that others should 
shoulder the responsibility. You wanted a prayer 
meeting, but you wanted it to benefit others. 
16 


242 thk will and the way. 

Henceforth, Lottie Harrington, you will do your 
duty, and take your share of the benefits,” and, 
Lottie rocked to and fro in a manner quite in har- 
mony v/ith her self-condemnation. 

At the usual hour the little silver bell tinkled for 
the prayer meeting in Miss Meile’s room. It was 
the first time since their leader had been taken 
from them that the girls had been called togetlier. 
Those who responded were anxious to see who 
would volunteer to take Katie’s place. Lottie 
calmly met the surprised looks bent upon her as 
she took the chair by the little table, and an- 
nounced the first hymn. She was not so calm in 
spirit, however ; and while the girls sang she asked 
earnestly for guidance and help in what she was 
about to undertake. At the close of the hymn, in 
her opening remarks Lottie spoke of their need of 
the meetings, and that no Q7te^ but all together, 
could carry on the work as Katie had planned it. 
The girls entered into the spirit of their leader, and 
many new resolutions were voiced. It was already 
past the closing time when Lottie asked them to 
consider the matter of leadership in the meetings . 
if they were to be continued. Lottie’s request 
resulted in the selection of a committee, of which 
she was to act as chairman. Girls who would, 
volunteer to lead were requested to hand in their 


DICK’S RESOLUTION. 


H3 


names to the committee in order that things might 
be made to move as smoothly and efficiently as pos- 
sible. 

Lottie’s resolution to do her part had caused 
others to follow her example, and ‘‘ Katie’s Meet- 
ing ” was to become a permanent feature in the life 
of Fenwick Hall ; influencing and moulding the 
characters of those who were to enter there years 
after the little originator had been laid to rest under 
the church-yard sod. 

At the close of the meeting Miss Meile asked the 
girls to sing in the spirit of the hour, 

® Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love.’* 

Lottie went to her room feeling that her resolu- 
tion to overcome her dislike for prayer meetings had 
given her one of the happiest hours she had known 
since she had been called a Christian. 

Lottie’s success in the prayer meeting made it 
easier for her to ta,ke up the primary work in the 
Sunday school. She appeared in her place the fol- 
lowing Sunday prepared to take charge of her 
work. The primary department had long been in 
the hands of young girls, v/illing workers, all of 
them, but without system or method ; they lacked 
the head which was to direct them. When the 


244 


THE WIEL AND THE WAY. 


Rev. Eisle was called upon to take charge of the 
pastorate, he at once set about to secure an efficient 
superintendent for the primary work in the Sunday 
school, and strangely, it seemed to every member 
of his church save Dr. Miller, he had decided upon 
Lottie. 

Now that Lottie had resolved to make an honest 
effort to succeed, she became concerned about her 
own ability and her preparation. She met Dr. 
Miller in his study, and together they had gone 
over the lesson. 

‘‘ If ever I can be of any assistance to you, Lottie, 
do not hesitate to ask me. I am entirely at your ser- 
vice,” said Dr. Miller at the close of the hour. “ I 
am particularly anxious that you should do well in 
this work. I know that you can do more good in 
that Sunday school than you know. The Christ- 
mas at the Andrews home has convinced me that 
the minister has chosen wisely.” 

I hope he has not made a mistake,” answered 
Lottie. 

It was several weeks after Lottie had taken up 
the Sunday-school work that she met Dr. Miller at 
the church door after service, and walked at his 
side to the college. 

“ How do you succeed, Lottie ? ” asked her 
friend. 


dick’s RESOI.UTION. 


245 


“ I am sure I do not know. It is not what I 
want. I have waited to talk with you, Dr. Miller, 
about something. We do not get the kind of help 
we need for the primary department in the Wed- 
nesday evening teachers’ meetings. We need a 
primary teachers’ meeting as well.” 

‘‘ You are right in that, Dottie. You need more 
preparation for primary work than you can get 
there. I would advise you to attend the regular 
teachers’ meetings and glean all that you can, but 
have a special meeting for your primary teachers 
later. You could have it in your own room ; that 
would make it convenient for you,” said Dr. Miller. 

‘‘ I meant to ask you to let us meet in your 
study. Dr. Miller,” said Lottie. “ I do not believe 
that I can teach those young girls well enough to 
lead a teachers’ meeting. You have so many helps 
in your library which would greatly aid us.” 

‘‘ Certainly you may come, and welcome. I 
think I can find an hour for the Master. You may 
come Saturday afternoon from four until five,” said 
the doctor. 

‘‘ How good of you ! ” exclaimed Lottie grate- 
fully. ‘‘ I will see the teachers this evening at 
church, and will arrange to have them come at that 
hour.” 

That hour in Dr. Miller’s study was the basis of 


246 THE WILE AND THE WAY. 

the successful management of the primary work in 
Christ’s Church. Aside from the lesson itself, 
methods were studied and plans were formed which 
brought about far-reaching results and plunged the 
pastor into new difficulties. The primary room 
was already crowded, and Lottie’s Home Mission 
Band was constantly bringing in new recruits. The 
demand for teachers became greater than the sup- 
ply at the minister’s command, and, in order to help 
Lottie out of her dilemma, Jean volunteered her 
assistance as secretary and librarian, thus relieving 
one of the assistants. 

Lottie was learning to love her work. It had 
been a pleasure to assist her father and to give 
what help she could to the pastor of the college 
church ; but with her new resoliition there came a 
joy in the service which she had not known before. 

Jean, too, was learning to take unusual interest in 
Lottie’s Sunday school. She refused to teach, but 
with Lottie she attended the teachers’ meetings in 
Dr. Miller’s study, and gained much thereby. She 
had also made a resolution upon that memorable 
Sunday. She had resolved to no longer avoid re- 
ligious influences, but to learn all that she could, 
as Dick had done, and many of the words which 
their mutual friend uttered in the perusal of the 
lesson were treasured in her heart. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 


THE SIvEiGH RIDE. 

“ He who stems a stream with sand, 

And fetters flame with flaxen band, 

Has yet a harder task to prove — 

By firm resolve to conquer love.*’ 

—Scott, 

The snow here and there showed signs of giving 
way before the sun’s constant fusilade one bright 
morning in February, when Jean met Harry Turner 
in the hall. 

‘‘ Really it is too bad, Miss Andrews ; the snow is 
going ! ” exclaimed Harry. ‘‘We have not had our 
picnic at Trenton yet, and the seniors have worn 
their hats for over a week.” 

“The Trenton picnic is a part of the course?” 
asked Jean. 

“ Oh, yes ; I must see the boys about it at once. 
We can go to-morrow night — Friday, you know. 
If it does not get too warm, the sleighs will slip 
easily,” said Harry. 

“ You are going, are you not. Miss Andrews? ” 

(247) 


248 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


I am not sure. I have considerable extra work 
on my hands just now, and besides — I have not been 
asked,” replied Jean, as she hurried into the Latin 
room, much to Harry’s annoyance, and whither he 
followed, and met her laughing eyes with a look of 
reproach. 

The sleigh ride to Trenton had been an annual 
mid-winter affair ever since the first senior class had 
donned its class caps. Originally it was a ‘‘ spread ” 
in honor of the graduating class, given by the jun- 
iors, when the hatchet was supposed to be buried 
and the pipe of peace smoked between the two 
classes. It continued to be a party, especially for 
the seniors and juniors ; but gradually it had been 
claimed by the whole school, and had become an 
event to be looked forward to. The seniors and 
juniors still held aloof from the hoi polloi^ by secur- 
ing for themselves all the single cutters the small 
town afforded, leaving only long sleds and bobs for 
underclass men and ‘‘preps.” 

It had become the duty of the freshmen to pro- 
vide transportation for the entire party. Those in 
charge of the sleds rivaled each other in the choice 
of their respective loads. Jean had seen Harry 
Turner’s name posted as one of the drivers, and she 
understood his question in the hall, and wished to 
avoid it. She knew that Jack would be with the 


THE SEEIGH RIDE. 


249 


seniors. Lottie, too, had gained so much additional 
credit by extra work that she was being ranked as 
a junior. Jean had heard Dick speak of his sled, 
and wished to go, but had not given him her name 
when she met Harry Turner. 

It was at dinner the following day when she saw 
Dick, and asked him whether he had room for her 
in his load. 

“ Yes, to be sure. The number is full, and we 
start at four o’clock sharp,” he answered, as he hur- 
ried off to complete his arrangements. 

At four o’clock the sleds lined up to receive their 
loads. The drivers sat in their places, each with a 
list of the names of their respective parties. 

Dick had prevailed upon Miss Meile to chaperon 
the young ladies in his sled, and she stood with Jean, 
waiting. Harry Turner’s sled was first in line, and 
Jean saw Edna Brannon and Elsie McKenzie among 
the first to take their places ; others followed until 
the sled seemed full, and still he waited. 

Make room ahead there ! ” shouted the drivers. 

‘‘ Here, Miss Meile ; here, Jean ! ” said Dick, as he 
hurried them forward into Harry Turner’s sleigh. 

“You are mistaken, Dick ; we were to go with 
you,” said Jean. 

“Are you comfortable. Miss Meile? ” asked Dick. 
He had not heard Jean’s objection. 


250 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


‘‘ This is so crowded, Jean, you will have to take 
my seat by the driver. I can hold on somehow 
here.” 

Jean’s face flushed scarlet, but she could not hesi- 
tate and longer delay the impatient drivers. 

“ Dick and I had the same load,” explained Harry, 
after Dick had tucked in the robes about Jean and 
ordered them to drive on. “You would give me no 
opportunity for explanation. I am very sorry that 
you are forced to join our party against your will.” 

“It is not against my will,” stammered Jean ; 
“ but you know if I ride with you here, we cannot 
study Tatin together any more.” 

“ Oh ! that’s it,” laughed Harry. 

“ But then,” continued Jean, “ there is not much 
need of our comparing Latin longer ; we seldom 
make mistakes now.” 

“Yes, and I am willing to exchange the Latin 
for — for a sleigh ride, for instance,” said Harry. 

“ What an ugly team ! ” exclaimed Jean, 
anxious to divert Harry’s attention to something 
else. 

“ Now, I don’t think so,” replied Harry. “ That 
one on your side, I think, is a fair specimen. I 
named him Bonus, because he is so angular.” 

“ Bonus ! ” exclaimed Jean ; “ why is his being 
angular a sign that he is good ? ” 


THE SEKIGH RIDE. 


^51 


‘‘ Yes — that is, he is bony : regular, 6 stem, boni ; 
nominative singular, bonus.” 

“And the name of the other horse ? ” asked Jean. 

“ I have named him Caesar,” replied Harry. 

“And why Caesar? ” asked Jean. 

“ Because he shows a decided tendency to harass 
his neighbor trans reinnm.” 

Caesar and Bonus trotted up lively and heartily 
jingled the bells upon their lank sides. 

The students in the rear of the sled were enjoy- 
ing the novelty of the sleigh ride, and paid no at- 
tention to the driver’s seat ; thus Jean and Harry 
were left quite to themselves. 

“Have you driven to Trenton before?” asked 
Jean, when they had been on the road some time. 

“No, I am sorry to say. I have never been a 
freshman before. I know where Trenton lies ; I 
have heard the directions frequently — six miles east 
and nine miles south,” said Harry. “ I expected the 
other sleds to keep up with us. All roads led to 
Rome, and there must be more than one road to 
Trenton.” 

“ The road is well traveled so far,” continued 
Harry, as he touched his horses lightly, and they 
flew over the smooth track for some distance, when, 
after descending a short hill, they entered a dense 
wood. 


252 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


“Are you sure that this is the right road, Turner ? ” 
asked someone from the rear. ‘‘ I do not recall this 
place, and I have gone to Trenton several times.” 

‘‘ I am sure we are on the road,” said Harry, 
“but I do not think it is the one we wanted to 
take. I will inquire at the next farm-house.” 

“A mile or two more matters little with such 
sleighing,” was the response, and no further notice 
was taken of either the road or the driver. 

It grew darker in the wood. 

“It is getting late,” said Harry to Jean, anx- 
iously. “We have been out long enough to be near 
Trenton. The other sleds are nowhere in sight.” 

“ We may be able to find our way when we get 
out of this,” suggested Jean. 

Harry drove on for some time. There seemed to 
be no end to the forest into which the road had led 
them. 

“Say, Turner, is there any way out of this?” 
asked Dick. 

“ I hope so,” said Harry, dejectedly. 

“At last I see a light ! ” exclaimed Dick. 

“ I believe it is a house,” answered Jean. 

They approached a clearing in the wood. The 
dim outlines of a man standing in the shrubbery 
were discernible in the semi-darkness. 

Harry drew up the tired horses. 


THE SEKIGH ride. 


253 


“ Good-evening, sir. Can you tell me whether 
we are on the right road to Trenton ? he asked. 

There was no reply. 

Please, sir, can you direct us to Trenton ? ” 
again asked Harry. ‘‘We seem to have lost our 
way.” 

Still no answer from the man in the shrubbery. 

“ Holler louder. Turner. He may be deaf,” said 
Dalton. 

“ Say ! old man, is this the road to Trenton ? ” 
shouted Harry. 

There was a burst of applause and laughter from 
those in the sled. 

“You are talking to a mummy, Mr. Turner,” said 
Jean, laughing. 

“And what may a mummy be?” asked Harry. 

“A post with a cross-bar, dressed up with a hat 
and coat, to scare the birds in summer,” answered 
Jean. 

“ Well, Mr. Mummy, you do not seem to know 
what we must find out, so just take off your hat 
and rub your bald pate while we drive on, and 
hunt up a man with brains in his head,” called 
Harry, as he gathered up the lines. 

“ If you will kindly tell me what it is you wish 
to know, I will direct j^ou,” said a voice from near 
the large gate, where, unobserved by Harry, stood a 


254 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


man who had come down the path from the house 
just in time to hear him address the mummy. 

Harry was so completely taken by surprise that 
he was at a loss to know what reply to make. 

“Own up, Turner,” called out Benton, “you 
have made more than one mistake this time.” 

The merry laughter which followed Benton’s 
advice added to Harry’s discomfxture. 

“ I sincerely beg your pardon, sir. I began to 
talk to the gentleman over in the berry patch ; but 
he was rather insolent, and treated me with silent 
contempt, when I inquired about the road to 
Trenton. We are from Milton and want to go 
to Trenton. Will you kindly direct us?” asked 
Harry. 

“You have come considerably out of your way,” 
answered the man. “ Turn your horses around and 
go back until you reach the cross-roads ; then turn 
to the east, and go straight ahead until you see the 
lights of Trenton.” 

“ How far is it? ” asked Harry. 

“About six miles.” 

“Thank you, sir. Good-night,” said Harry, as 
he turned his horses about and proceeded to find his 
way back in the darkness. 

The tall trees meeting overhead shut out the 
moonlight, and Harry let the horses walk slowly. 


THE SEEIGH RIDE. 


255 


‘‘ We’ll all get there, 

We’ll all get there, 

We’ll all get there to-morrow,** 

sang a merry voice in the back of the sled. 

College songs followed, and the way did not seem 
so long until they emerged from the darkness of the 
wood and the smooth white track lay before them. 

Come, Caesar ! come. Bonus ! you shall be re- 
warded for my stupidity,” said Harry, and the horses 
trotted off in the direction of Trenton. 

They v/ere hurried out of the sled by friends, 
amid exclamations of surprise and relieved anxiety. 

“We have been here all of two hours,” said 
Lottie, when they were inside the hall, where the 
refreshments were still waiting for the tardy party. 

Harry Turner’s adventure with the mummy be- 
came known and furnished the amusement for the 
evening. 

It was later than they had anticipated when they 
returned to the college. Clouds had gradually 
overspread the sky and sharp flakes of snow and 
sleet heralded the approaching storm. 

Jean had noticed with delight that Miss McKenzie, 
and not Miss Howell, rode with Jack in his sleigh 
the night of the party to Trenton. Jean shared 
Lottie’s dislike for the girl whom Dr. Miller had 
described as a piece of mechanism, and she had 


256 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


feared at times that Jack admired her by far too 
much. It was a relief to see him direct his atten- 
tions to the lovely girl who presided over their 
table day after day with such womanly grace. It 
seemed so natural that Jack should like Miss Mc- 
Kenzie that Jean fell to wondering why he had 
never mentioned her at home. Jean knew nearly 
all Jack’s classmates by name before she had come 
to Milton, and she had never heard of Miss Mc- 
Kenzie until she met her at table the first day at 
school. She determined to ask Miss Meile about it. 

“ My dear, it is the ‘rift within the lute.’ I do 
not wonder that Jack did not care to talk about 
Miss McKenzie. I was more pleased than you can 
know, Jean, to see them together at Trenton. It 
was in Jack’s freshman year that he grew very fond 
of Julia. He paid her considerable attention, until 
at some time during his sophomore year little dif- 
ferences began to separate them. Jack, as you know, 
is very precise and fixed in his views. He detests 
what he calls the new woman. Julia McKenzie is 
a perfect lady in every respect. She has, however, 
more liberal ideas concerning woman’s sphere. She 
argued the right of woman’s entering the profes- 
sions, and she especially advocated the study of 
medicine as a special avenue leading to a useful life, 
I noticed that Jack gradually deserted Julia after 


THK SI.EIGH RIDE. 


257 


that, and transferred his attentions to Miss Howell. 
I had feared sometimes that he would never see his 
error.” 

‘‘Is Miss McKenzie going to study medicine ? ” 
asked Jean. 

“No,” answered Miss Meile ; “ she only claimed 
the right to study it, and she enjoyed the argument 
the more because it annoyed Jack. Julia McKen- 
zie is destined to make some home very happy, and, 
if it should chance to be Jack’s home, it will be 
fortunate for both of them.” 

“ She is a woman who will bring out all that is 
noble and good in the man whom she marries,” 
continued Miss Meile. “Jack needs no such in- 
centive. He is all that we could desire — save for 
the one thing which he still lacketh, but a good 
woman will be a great help to him.” 

Jean was not sure that she cared to consider Jack 
in that light. He had belonged to her so long that 
she was almost sorry to learn that he cared for even 
Miss McKenzie in that way. 

Jean observed closely after Miss Meile’s revela- 
tion. She noticed with pleasure, not unmixed 
with pain, that Dr. Miller’s horse needed frequent 
exercising, and that Miss McKenzie accompanied 
Jack in the kindly act. 

There was no one in the whole school whom 

17 


258 THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

Jean would have preferred to Miss McKenzie for 
Jack, but it was hard for her to yield the first place 
in her brother’s affections to another, and she could 
not easily accommodate herself to the new state of 
affairs, and she finally confided in Dick. 

“ Wh-e-w ! ” whistled Dick ; “ now that you men- 
tion it, I guess you are about right. I knew it two 
years ago, but had forgotten it entirely. Well, I 
wish the old fellow good luck.” 

Jean learned to share Dick’s generous attitude, 
and yielded to the inevitable. When at last Jack 
took her for a drive instead of Miss McKenzie, and 
told her that he knew that she already liked 
Julia for her own sake, but that she must love 
her also for his sake, Jean felt very happy to know 
that Jack had told her, and, when she met Miss 
McKenzie in her own room later, she welcomed her 
with a sister’s love. 

‘‘Jack has told me,” said Jean, as Miss McKenzie 
put her arm about her, “ and I am so glad.” 

Jean had fully rooted out the jealous feeling of 
her heart, and had learned another lesson which 
was not in the books. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


jean’s school. 

“ We are much bound to them that do succeed ; 

But in a more pathetic sense are bound to such as fail/* 

— Ingelow, 

Admission to college was the goal which Jean 
had set up for herself. Knowing that her father 
regarded the education of women as worse than use- 
less, she decided not to ask him to educate her, 
and that, like kottie and Jack, she would work her 
own way. Lottie had gained the farmer’s reluctant 
consent to Jean’s teaching, provided that she would 
teach near home. Through Rev. Simons, Jean had 
learned that Miss Hazleton would resign her posi- 
tion as teacher of the village school at the close of 
the winter term, and she decided to make an effort 
to secure the position, provided that she could pass 
the teachers’ examinations. She made good use 
of her spare time under Lottie’s direction. Lottie 
had made inquiries concerning the manner in 
which the examinations were conducted, and 
learned to her delight that Jean .had had all the 

(259) 


26 o 


THE WIEE and the WAY. 


necessary branches save the ‘‘ Theory of Teaching 
and School Management.” Lottie had procured 
the necessary books at once, and hastened to tell 
Jean the news. 

“ There, Brownie, are the books. Now you 
must get to work. ‘ Where there is a will there is 
a way.’ You will come out all right if you apply 
yourself.” 

‘‘ I have also learned the time and place of the 
examination,” continued Lottie. ‘‘ We will go 
the first Saturday in next month ; that leaves you 
time enough.” 

Where do we go ? ” asked Jean. 

‘‘ Oh ! I forgot to tell you. You must hold the 
certificate in your county. You remember that 
fleshy man whom you palmed off on Dalton ? His 
son is the superintendent of public instruction up 
there, and I met him when he was here with his 
father, so we will need no letters of introduction or 
recommendation. ’ ’ 

“ Mr. Kemper ! ” exclaimed Jean. “ That will 
make it ever so much more pleasant.” 

‘‘And now to work ; there is no time to be lost, 
even if circumstances are favorable.” 

And thus it happened that Jean and Lottie 
quietly left the campus on the very early morning 
train for the city. 


jean’s schooe. 


261 


Only Miss Meile and Dr. Miller knew of their in- 
tentions. Jean knew that neither Jack nor Dick 
would disapprove of her plans, and she anticipated 
the pleasure of their surprise when, if successful, 
she could acquaint them with her project. 

When the train stopped in the familiar station, 
Dottie hurried Jean off to the city hall, where they 
were directed to the county offices. “Superin- 
tendent of Public Instruction,” in gilt letters on the 
transom above the door, designated the room where 
the examination was to be held. 

It was still early, and Mr. Kemper was alone. 
He was pleased to meet Jean, and, after learning 
her errand, offered to let her commence her work 
at once in order that she might return to college on 
the afternoon train. 

“ You may come with Miss Andrews, Miss 
Harrington, and she may work in my private 
office, where she will not be disturbed by the others 
when they come in,” said Mr. Kemper. 

Jean found herself seated at a large desk in the 
quiet of the inner room with the examination ques- 
tions before her. She bent herself to her task, 
while Lottie cozily established herself in the depths 
of Mr. Kemper’s easy-chair and took out her cro- 
cheting. 

The questions were along the line of Jean’s work 


262 


THE WIEL AND THE WAY. 


during the year, and she had but little difficulty in 
answering them. She wrote rapidly, but she had 
scarce finished her last paper when Mr. Kemper 
announced that her train would leave in a very 
short time. 

These will receive prompt attention. Miss 
Andrews,” said he, as he gathered up her papers. 
“ I know what to expect from you as a teacher, 
and I gladly welcome you among us.” 

“ Your professors praised your work to me in no 
moderate terms,” he continued, when Lottie and 
Jean were about to go ; “ and I do not doubt the 
result of to-day’s work.” 

Jean found herself whirling back to college, and 
when she and Lottie were again alone in their own 
room she exclaimed : 

“ It does not seem possible that we have been all 
the way up to the city and back again, and that that 
examination which I feared so much is really over. 
And, Lottie, do you know that I believe I have 
passed it ; it was not at all hard.” 

‘‘ Of course, you passed. Brownie ; but I venture 
to say there are some who differ with you to-night on 
that last point. An examination is easy when one 
is prepared, and vice versa^'^ said Lottie. ‘‘ I shall 
be very sorry to lose you, Jean, but more than glad to 
hear of your success as a country schoolma’am.” 


JEAN’S SCHOOE. 


263 


Mr. Kemper had said that Jean’s papers would 
receive prompt attention, but one whole week 
passed ere Lottie and Jean, who had faithfully 
watched every mail, were rewarded. The large 
yellow envelope, with the county superintendent’s 
stamp upon one corner, told the result of the exam- 
ination. 

‘‘If you hadn’t passed you would simply have 
had a letter — that must be the certificate,” cried 
Lottie, as she held the precious package in her 
hands and danced for joy. “ Come, Jean, we cannot 
open it here.” 

The girls hastened across the campus to Fenwick 
Hall. 

“ There ! ” said Lottie, after she had closed the 
door. “ Open it, Jean, I want to see it.” 

Jean cut the wrapper with trembling fingers. 
How much depended upon the contents. She 
slowly drew forth the paper and unfolded it, and 
began to read : “ To whom it may concern ” 

“ Stop ! ” cried Lottie. “ I know the rest. I only 
wanted to be sure that you had it. Now we must 
see Jack and have him help you get the school ; he 
knows more about such things than we girls could 
be expected to know.” 

Jack was highly pleased with Jean’s new move. 
To teach would awaken in her the self-confidence 


264 "THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 

which she still lacked, and might prove as bene- 
ficial as had her school-work. The salary in the 
village school was good, and Jean would be en- 
abled to return to Milton the year following to com- 
plete the preparatory course. After consulting 
with Dick, Jack decided to write to Rev. Simons 
and ask him to use his influence in Jean’s favor 
with the school board at the time of Miss Hazleton’s 
resignation. It was not many days ere Rev. Simons’ 
reply was at hand, and Jean was requested to for- 
ward her certificate at once. 

“ Miss Andrews needed no influence in her 
favor,” he wrote. ‘‘ The mere mention of the fact 
that she is qualified to teach, and that she wants a 
summer school, was all that was necessary.” 

“ There ! Brownie,” exclaimed kottie, “it is the 
old story, ‘ Get the will ready, and the way will ap- 
pear.’ ” 

Jean regretted much that in leaving school at 
the close of the winter term she would miss her 
work in Latin. All her other studies closed with 
the term, and her credits would be recorded. The 
class in Latin would continue their work, and she 
feared that she would be unable to go on with the 
study when she would return the following school 
year. 

Jack, too, disliked the idea of Jean’s dropping 


jean’s school. 


265 


her Latin ; her record in the class had been very 
good, and he felt that in the final examinations 
she would have ranked above the rest in the class. 
He advised her to study enough to keep her Latin 
fresh in mind, and when he and Dick would go 
home after college closed they could assist her in 
her work, and she might be able to continue with 
her class the following year. 

Jack had made Jean feel at ease concerning her 
Latin. After his assurance that she could continue 
the study alone, she prepared herself for teaching 
with a happy heart. 

When it had been fully decided that she was to 
succeed Miss Hazleton, she wrote the news home 
to her father. Farmer Andrews had already heard 
it from a member of the school board, and had 
received the congratulations of his friends with a 
conscious pride in Jean’s achievements. To have 
Jean at home and at the head of the village school 
were two very satisfactory conditions of the plan. 
The farmer began to accustom the colts to the road 
trap, in order that Topsy might be at Jean’s dis- 
posal. 

“ She is so safe and gentle that we need not feel 
anxious,” he said. 

That Jean should come back a teacher after so 
short a stay at the academy caused her father far 


266 


THK WILIy AND THE WAY. 


more pleasure than the fact that Jack would com- 
plete his college course in the spring and go out in 
the world, armed with his diploma, to commence 
his life’s work. 

In due time Jean was installed as teacher, and sat 
behind the high desk in the school-house where she 
herself had gone in and out as a pupil. 

She entered upon her duties as a teacher keenly 
awake to the responsibilities which rested upon 
her, and she looked into the upturned faces with a 
firm resolution to do her very best for them. Some 
of the older girls who sat on the back seats were 
once her play-fellows ; they were girls who had 
spent winter after winter in this ungraded country 
school. Jean recalled the Sunday-school class, 
where she sat side by side with these same girls 
and suffered mental torment while they regarded 
her queer little Quaker frock and bonnet with 
evident amusement. But now everything was 
changed, and she pitied them in their present con- 
dition, and mentally resolved to help them in other 
things aside from the school-room lore. 

The first few days were busy days for Jean. 
Miss Hazleton had left the work as she had found 
it, in a very chaotic state. Jean had a theory for 
grading work in country" schools clearly outlined, 
and after the second day she turned Topsy’s head 


jean’s schooe. 267 

in the direction of the home of one of the most in- 
fluential members of the school board, and pre- 
sented her theory so clearly that she won his con- 
sent to experiment before she had used one-half of 
her arguments. 

With a list of her pupils’ names before her, she 
sat until late into the night trying to adjust her 
theory to the facts. Many of her pupils had been 
allowed to follow their own likes and dislikes in 
the choice of their studies, and to grade them re- 
quired considerable tact on Jean’s part. 

The following morning she explained her scheme 
at some length, and then read the names of the 
pupils as she had classifled them, and named the 
conditions upon which they could remain in the 
respective grades. The new plan worked readily 
with the little ones. They naturally fell into line, 
and Jean offered to assist the older ones after school 
hours, in order that they might make good their 
deficiencies. 

She succeeded in instilling so much enthusiasm 
that she had no difficulty in persuading the older 
girls to undertake the task of making up the 
branches in which they were lacking. 

The additional work for Jean was considerable. 
As the days passed she had to remain later with 
her pupils. Frequently the sun had gone down be- 


268 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


hind the hill in the west when Topsy turned into 
the green lane. 

She looked at her Latin books lying upon her 
little table, but she felt too tired at the close of her 
long day’s work to take them up. 

Why do yon stay so late ? No other teacher 
did,” asked Fred. 

‘‘ They need me,” was Jean’s reply. 

Jean’s successful management of the school was 
the theme for conversation at the corner grocery. 
The rough boys and girls who had caused Miss 
Hazleton more than one unpleasant day were Jean’s 
ardent admirers and stanch supporters. 

When the days grew warmer the older pupils 
fitted up the entrance hall as a recitation-room, and 
followed Jean’s methods in teaching the primary 
grades. At first Jean herself superintended their 
work, but gradually she had given it over into the 
hands of those most competent, and thus relieved 
herself of the over-pressure. 

Farmer Andrews was much elated over Jean’s 
success, and gladly listened to the praise heaped 
upon her by the parents of the children in her 
charge. Jean was working hard, but she was 
happy in the consciousness of doing good. 


jean’s school. 


269 


Dear Dottie : 

You justly charge me with tardiness in writing. I see three 
unanswered letters before me. You have been very kind. I 
am too tired when night comes to write you, and Saturdays 
belong to mother. I have no time that I can call my own. 
Bven Sunday finds me back in my old place as organist in two 
services and teacher in the Sunday school. I really am very 
busy. 

My school is moving along nicely. At first I feared trouble. 
I have some pupils older than myself, and that is so unusual in 
a country summer school. They are all so attentive and work 
so faithfully that I find it a pleasure to have them. 

Many amusing things happen in the school-room constantly, 
which you would appreciate heartily. I have some very bright 
and mischievous children who tax my ingenuity to the utter- 
most. 

One little fellow, named Tommy, is unusually cunning. 
Yesterday morning, when I opened my desk to get my Bible for 
the morning exercise, a huge toad sat demurely blinking in a 
very contented manner within the desk. I glanced about the 
room and noticed that Tommy’s eyes were unusually bright 
and that they were watching me in a peculiarly interested man- 
ner. I read the chapter as if nothing strange had happened, 
and after we had repeated the Lord’s Prayer in concert I tapped 
the bell for books. We have a study period first thing each 
morning. The pupils went to work at once, but Tommy’s eyes 
would peep over the top of his book as if to see what the teacher 
would do. “ Come here, Tommy,” I said, as calmly as I could 
(for I did want to laugh at him). 

Tommy obeyed at once and approached the desk, vnth a 
strange expression upon his face. I lifted the desk lid and 
said, “ Will you please take that out? ” 

He took up the horrid thing as readily as if it had been a pet 


270 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


or a toy, and walked out of the room. The beaten look upon 
his face was ill concealed by the forced smile. 

Another boy who tries my patience sometimes is Hiram 
Morris. He has a trick of bottling bumble-bees, and allowing 
them to escape in the room. Unknov/n to me he kept a little 
garter snake in a small glass jar under his desk one entire day, 
much to the discomfort of the timid little girl just across the 
aisle. He constantly carries bugs and beetles in his pocket. I 
think he will be a naturalist some day. 

I have two little girls, named Nora and Della. They are both 
very bright, and are in the same grade and sit in the same seat. 
They have a most ingenious trick of playing “Jack ” upon tv/o 
slates at the same time. Nora drew a Jack on one side of her 
folding slate, and Della did the same. Nora makes her 
“ mark,” which is copied by Della ; then Della “ marks ” and 
Nora copies on her slate, and so on to the end of the game. I 
watched them with considerable amusement the other day. 
When they had been playing for some time, I asked Nora to 
bring me her work. She came readily, and showed me a neatly- 
worked problem on the outside of the folded slate. I asked 
Della to bring me her work also. Della’s work was similar to 
Nora’s. 

“Have you your pencils with you?” I asked. Both girls 
answered that they had. I said, “ Now, girls, you m^y take your 
places here before the desk and play Jack for us. Attention I 
children. Nora and Della have a new kind of Jack which they 
play upon two slates at the same time. You may watch them 
closely for a few moments. Now, girls, proceed.” 

The two little faces grew very red as they complied with my 
request, amidst the semi-audible laughter of their schoolmates. 
I do not anticipate much trouble with “ Jack ” in school here- 
after. The girls were so severely punished that I did not think 
it necessary to enlarge upon the wnrong which they had done in 
trying to deceive me. I think they realized it fully 


jean’s school. 


271 


There are also some very pathetic things which happen in 
the school-room. One large boy — taller than I am — had been 
suspended for the remainder of Miss Hazleton’s term. Dr. 
Roberts, one of the school board, told me that if he came back 
I was not to be troubled with him as Miss Hazleton had been, 
but that he should be reported promptly for dismissal. 

It was my fourth day of school when Willie Armstrong ap- 
peared on the play-ground at recess. When the bell rang for the 
children to come into the house, he remained outside. I was 
anxious to know just what he would do, and I was not long in 
doubt. He waited until the children were all seated, when he 
came sauntering in, and walked to the further end of the room 
and let himself fall, with a resounding thump, upon the long 
bench next to the wall. I took no notice of him whatever. He 
was determined to attract my attention. A loud groan, as if he 
were in bodily pain, caused some of the children to laugh and 
look at me expectantly. Again I ignored him. All through the 
remainder of the afternoon he tried in every way to provoke me. 
He whittled and sang, threw paper wads, and banged books on 
the desk near him. I resolved to make at least one effort to 
reach that boy. When I dismissed the other children, I asked 
Willie Armstrong to remain for a few moments. He winked 
first one eye and then the other in a most tantalizing manner 
until I longed to give him the whipping he so much deserved. 
I arranged my desk leisurely, until the last child had gone out 
of hearing, and then I walked back to where Willie was sitting, 
and took the seat just in front of him. I turned about in order 
that I might look him squarely in the face. 

“ Willie, you have not been upon your best behavior to-day. 
What is the matter ? ” I said. I tried to speak pleasantly. 

He regarded me in an astonished manner, and then stupidly 
answered, “ I don’t know.” 

“ I thought you did not understand, and so I decided to stay 
and talk your school- work over with you. There must be some- 


272 


THE WILL AND THE WAY. 


thing wrong 'when a boy dislikes school as much as you ap- 
pear to.” 

“ I don’t dislike school,” he blurted out. “ The trouble is I 
am so much bigger than the other fellows in my readin’ and 
’rithmetic classes that they sort o’ make fun o’ me ; and the 
teachers do it, too,” he added fiercely. 

“ I did not make fun of you, Willie,” I said. 

“ No ; you didn’t get a chance to. I just made up my mind 
that I would be so bad that you would get me dismissed, ’ ’ he 
answered. 

“ But I am not going to get you dismissed,” I said. “ I came 
here to help you, in order that you may some time help your 
poor old grandmother. You are the only person upon whom 
she can depend. I am going to help you make a good man of 
yourself. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I heard ole Roberts tole you to dismiss me, ’ ’ he answered 
stolidly. 

“ I do not know what you heard, Willie, but I am going to 
do no such thing. Now let us talk about your reader and the 
arithmetic. Why, are you so much older than the others in 
your classes? ” I asked. 

“ Well, you see, I must stop out to help granny and take care 
o’ her when she’s sick, an’ I get behind,” he answered. 

You cannot know how much I sympathized with the poor 
boy, and I decided to make every effort to help him. 

“Will you study hard if I hear you recite alone after the 
others are gone ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes, m-a-a-m. I would work like a nigger to get up with 
the boys o’ my age,” he answered with emphasis. 

W^e talked about the arithmetic, and I got him to tell me what 
parts were especially hard for him, and I assigned him a lesson 
for the morrow. We talked some about his past, but more 
about the possibilities of the future, and, when at last I locked 
the school-house door, Willie fetched Topsy up to the stile for 


jean’s school. 


273 


me, and we parted the best of friends. Willie Armstrong has 
been my faithful ally ever since, and it is by far the best part of 
the day for me when in the quiet of the school-room I sit down 
near Willie and together we go over the lessons. 

The lovely motto which you sent me hangs above the 
blackboard, back of my desk, where all the children can see it. 
I have taken special pains to make it plain to Willie, and 
already he is cultivating the will part of his preparation for life. 

I have much to be grateful to you for, Lottie. In the man- 
agement of the little ones, I learned many useful things in your 
Sunday-school room, and the methods I employ with the older 
ones I gleaned from the books which 5^ou procured for me. 

How I long to hear from you again. Give my love to Miss 
Meile and Dr. Miller and remember me to all the girls. Mother 
and Aunt Jo join me in sending love to yourself 

Sincerely yours, 

Jean. 


18 


CHAPTER XXV. 


THE mother’s illness. 

With feeble light and half obscure, 

Poor mortals Thine arrangements view ; 

Not knowing that the least are sure, 

And the mysterious just and true.’* 

— Serle, 

The June roses were again in bloom, and soon 
Jack and Dick would be expected home. Jean had 
hoped that the school board would have at least 
one day’s vacation because of the Old Settlers’ 
Meeting, which was to be held upon the commence- 
ment day at Milton. She had hoped in vain. The 
work in the village school was so productive of 
good results that not even one day could be lost. 
Dr. Roberts chuckled with satisfaction when he 
reported the action of the board to Jean. He failed 
to understand why she did not seem pleased by the 
board’s appreciation. 

“ If you wish to attend the meeting yourself, we 
may reach another decision,” said the doctor. 

“ The Old Settlers’ Meeting? Oh, no. I do not . 
care to go there,” quickly replied Jean. 

(274) 


THK mother’s IEENESS. 275 

Rob and Fred went alone to see Jack graduate 
with the honors of his class. 

Jean felt the disappointment keenly. It was one 
of the many lessons of self-discipline which were 
yet to enter into her education. She hastened 
home from the school-room on the eve of com- 
mencement day, in order that she might cut the 
largest of the roses for Jack. She sent also a goodly 
supply of fragrant June flowers to lyottie and Miss 
Meile, and a large bouquet to be placed upon Miss 
McKenzie’s table in the dining-hall. 

Jean watched Rob and Fred drive away with old 
Jacob, and then returned to the house for the quiet 
hour with her mother and the preparation of her 
work for the morrow. The next morning found 
the teacher of the village school in her place, pleas- 
antly greeting the noisy children as they rushed in 
to bid her “good-morning.” 

When the hands of the clock on the school-house 
wall pointed to the hour when Jack would stand 
before the large audience in Christ’s Church, Jean 
did realize how sorely she had been disappointed, 
and an unbidden moisture dimmed her sight. It 
was but for an instant, and then she resolutely 
brushed the tears away and went about her daily 
tasks. 

Jean knew just how Jack would look as valedic- 


^76 the v/iel and the way. 

torian, and that he would bring his speech home for 
her to read. Dick, Robbie, and Fred could tell her 
everything, even about the flowers and music. It 
would almost seem as if she herself had been there. 
She became more cheerful when she had made the 
best of her misfortune. 

The day was finally over, and Willie stood at the 
stile with Topsy, waiting for Jean to mount. 

“ Miss Andrews, I think I can make the grade. 
I will have more time to study, now that the com is 
all in,’’ said Willie. 

“ I am so glad,” answered Jean, as she pulled on 
her riding gloves. 

“Granny said I could go to school the whole 
term, seeing that you are so kind to me.” 

“ I am delighted to hear that, Willie, and we will 
make good use of the time left us,” said Jean. 

“ Granny said you were the first teacher who had 
cared about my grammar or about my doing things 
just right outside of the books,” said Willie, and he 
politely lifted his hat to Jean and started homeward. 

Jean looked after Willie for a moment and then 
lightly touched Topsy with her riding whip and 
rode off in the opposite direction. 

“ There is the making of a man in that boy,” she 
said. “ I am so glad that I found it out. What a 
mistake it would have been to have reported him, 


THK mother’s ITENKSS. 


277 


as Dr. Roberts advised. I am going to be very slow 
about dismissing pupils. Willie Armstrong is one 
of my brightest children, and he has been the terror 
of the school for several years back.” 

Jean brushed the flies from Topsy’s neck with 
her little whip, and rode slowly homeward. She 
planned how she might help Willie after her school 
would close. In the two whole months before the 
college opened, Willie could accomplish consider- 
able. He worked so hard and so eagerly that Jean 
felt it a pleasure to assist him. 

It was during one of the short study periods, in 
the afternoon of a day one week later, that Jean sat 
thinking of the future of the children before her. 
She regretted that her school would close so soon. 
The orderly system to which she had reduced her 
work and the busy hum of the school-room had 
grown dear to her. 

She was about to summon the first classes for the 
afternoon, when she became conscious of a presence 
in the open door. 

‘‘ Good-afternoon, Miss Andrews. Pardon me for 
observing your school-room. I was taking advan- 
tage of the situation ; it was such an admirable 
opportunity for studying your methods,” and Mr. 
Kemper entered the school-room, his face beaming 
with pleasure. “ You seem to have excellent con- 


278 THE WILE AND THE WAY. 

trol here,” he continued, as he took the chair Jean 
offered him, “ quite different from my last visit at 
this place, I assure you.” 

Mr. Kemper glanced about the room and his eyes 
rested upon Willie. 

“ That fellow here ! ” he exclaimed. “ I had 
hoped for your sake that he would not have time 
to attend a summer school.” 

Mr. Kemper spoke in a low tone, but Jean knew 
by the painful flush which spread itself over Willie’s 
face that he had understood the nature of the sup- 
erintendent’s remark. Jean met the boy’s beseech- 
ing look in her direction with an assuring smile, as 
she tapped the little silver bell for classes. 

It was Willie’s week in the primary work, and 
Jean enjoyed the surprised look with which Mr. 
Kemper saw the little ones follow their leader into 
the hall. 

Jean ventured no explanation, but closed the door 
after them and tapped a second bell for her own 
class of larger pupils. When the recitation was at 
an end she opened the hall door and the little ones 
filed in, followed by their teacher. Jean imagined 
that there was a look of pride on Willie’s face, and 
that he walked more erect than usual. 

A second time the little bell called and the second 
primary grade passed out, followed by one of the 


THE mother’s IEENESS. 


279 


older girls, and Jean again devoted herself to her 
own class. 

All the afternoon Mr. Kemper sat and wondered 
at the clock-like system with which everything 
moved along. He wondered still more at the ease 
with which Jean controlled the large, well-filled 
room, and the evident good-will manifest, where 
all had been arbitrary rule and contention. 

“ Your work here has been a marvel. Miss An- 
drews,” said Mr. Kemper at the close of the day. 
‘‘ I was very sorry to hear of your appointment, for 
I feared that it would be even harder for you 
than it had been for the former teachers, since it 
is your home school. I have never seen the school 
under such control. There is but one thing in 
your management the policy of which I ques- 
tion.” 

‘‘ The primary work ? ” asked Jean. 

U Yes.” 

“ I know it is open to criticism, but I could not 
do otherwise. I had more work than I could pos- 
sibly crowd into the six hours. I do not see how 
one teacher could do all this work and do it well,” 
said Jean. 

‘‘ You would suggest an assistant? ” 

“Yes, or a division of the school. I would rec- 
ommend the latter.” 


28 o 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


“ I will see the board in regard to it. You will 
teach here in the winter? ” 

“ No, I am afraid I cannot do that,” replied Jean. 
‘‘ I want to continue teaching, but feel that I am 
not sufficiently prepared ; I will probably return to 
Milton in September.” 

“ Can you suggest someone from the college for 
next year?” asked Mr. Kemper. ‘‘I can readily 
believe that your methods are largely due to your 
own training. I am very anxious that this school 
should be left in good hands.” 

Jean appreciated the praise which Mr. Kemper 
lavished upon her work, but she felt indignant when 
she remembered how Willie had been hurt, and she 
made good use of every opportunity to pay him spe- 
cial attention during the one week that remained. 

It was the last day of Jean’s school. She had 
prepared the pupils for an entertainment. The 
room was filled to overflowing with the parents of 
the children. 

The last session was entirely taken up with songs 
and recitations. At the close Jean stepped before 
the desk and spoke to the children. Her voice 
trembled with emotion. She dearly loved her work 
and was loath to part with her pupils. She talked 
earnestly for a few moments about v/hat they had 
accomplished in the four short months, and what 


THE MOTHEE-’S lEENESS. 


281 

they must aim to do in the years to come. At last 
she turned toward the motto still hanging above 
the desk. 

“ There, children, is the motto which will help 
you succeed. It has greatly helped me. I need 
not tell some of you how discouraged I was when 
I comnienced work here. Every time I looked at 
that motto it made me stronger, and I began to look 
for the way out of the difficulty. Let it be your 
motto in gaining an education : 

“ ‘ Whbrk There is a Wiee There is a Way.* 

I will leave the motto hanging there, and I hope 
you will read it often ; and that it may help you 
find the way to become good men and women.” 

Unconsciously, Jean directed the greater part of 
her remarks to Willie. Willie’s head sank upon 
his hands, and he resolved to become the man Miss 
Andrews would wish him to be. 

Jean was about to bid them good-bye, when Nora 
and Della, each holding a beautiful vase, came for- 
ward, and, in behalf of their schoolmates, presented 
their gift to the teacher whom they had learned to 
love so dearly. 

Jack had come after Jean, and they were alone 
in the deserted room. Jean had gathered up her 
books and looked about for the last time. 


282 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


“ It is hard to give it up,” she said. ‘‘ I have 
come to think that everything is hard. It was 
hard to leave home last fall, and it was hard to 
give up my Latin to go to teaching, and now it is 
hard to close my school.” 

“ Yes, life has many hard things,” said Jack. 
‘‘ But how about your Latin, Jean? ” 

I have been too busy to do anything with it,’’ 
said Jean. 

“You have two months yet ; much can be done 
in that time,” replied Jack. 

“ I will commence to-night,” said Jean. 
“ ‘ Where there is a will there is a way,’ and pos- 
sibly I can go on with my class in September, any 
way.” 

Jean’s work in Latin was well begun, and she 
had recited several times to Jack. She was sitting 
with her brothers on the side-porch at the close of 
the recitation. 

“ Jean, wilt thou come here ? I feel faint,” said the 
mother from the open doorway, where she had been 
wheeled that she might be near her children. 

The mother’s unusually pale face alarmed Jean, 
and she hastened to do her bidding. 

Mother Andrews had not felt as well as usual 
for some days, and the faint spell, when she called 
to Jean, was followed by weeks of suffering. 


THE mother’s ILENESS. 


283 


Jean no longer thought of her Latin. Day or 
night she was in her place by the bedside, trying to 
relieve the excruciating pains which the sufferer 
endured. 

It was at the end of the third week that Dr. 
Roberts called the farmer aside and advised him to 
send to the city for a physician with whom he 
could consult. Jean, with a white face, watched 
Jack’s hurried preparations for the drive, and then 
she left Aunt Jo in her place by the bedside and 
hurried away to the shade of the walnut trees be- 
hind the house, where she had so often wheeled the 
invalid during the warm spring days. She sank 
down on the rustic seat and leaned her head against 
the trunk of the tree and gave way to the sobs 
which she had stifled so long. 

Lion came up to her, laid his head in her lap, 
and looked at her sympathetically. Jean petted the 
dog, and the kind act softened the bitterness of her 
grief. She recalled Dr. Miller’s words : ‘‘ If it be 
His will I can bear it.” But then Jean questioned 
why should He will to make her mother suffer so ? 
Katie’s gentle voice seemed to whisper, “ He knows 
why.” 

Jean grew more calm, and, after bathing her 
swollen eyes, she resumed her place with the mother, 
to watch through the weary hours until Jack’s return. 


284 


THE WIIvL and the way. 


The result of the long consultation of the doctors 
was that an operation had been agreed upon, and a 
skillful surgeon and a trained nurse were sent for at 
once. Jean saw with horror the preparations which 
were being made, and when she could no longer be 
of service — when all save Aunt Jo and the nurse 
were asked to leave the room — she again hastened to 
her retreat under the walnut trees. It was there 
that Jack found her. Her white face and her brib 
liant eyes, which could no longer weep, alarmed 
him. 

‘‘ Jean, you are making yourself ill. Your over- 
work in the school-room and mother’s sickness have 
been too much for you,” said Jack, as he seated 
himself at her side and took one of her hot hands 
in his and passed it over his forehead. “ When this 
is over, I will have Dr. Wiles prescribe for you, 
and you will have to rest. Dick and I can relieve 
the nurse and Aunt Jo.” 

“ When this is over ! ” said Jean in a stupefied 
manner. 

“ Yes ; Dr. Wiles thinks mother will be much 
better when this is over. He even suggested that 
she might be able to walk again. I just came from 
the sitting-room. The worst is over now, and Aunt 
Jo said that they found that mother’s intense pain 
had been due to an unnatural pressure upon a nerve 


THE mother’s ieeness. 285 

centre. Tlie cause has been removed, and we have 
reason to hope for much good resulting from the 
operation. Come, Jean, and lie down. You need 
rest.” 

“No, Jack, I cannot rest now. I will go and 
find Aunt Jo,” said Jean, as she rose to go into the 
house. 

Dr. Wiles’ diagnosis had been correct. Mother 
Andrews slowly recovered consciousness and found 
herself strangely free from pain. Jean was again 
by the invalid’s side, for her mother would have it 
so. Other hands lifted the burdens and other feet 
w^ent upon errands, but Jean could not vacate her 
chair by the bedside. Dick and Jack tried to re- 
lieve the tired girl while their mother slept, but 
she would call for Jean immediately after v/aking. 

It was the last week before the opening of school 
at Milton. Jack had received a fellowship in an 
Eastern college in a competitive examination. So 
intense had been the strain of the mother’s illness 
that little or no mention had been made of his good 
fortune. Dick was to succeed his brother in the 
secretary’s office. 

Jack conferred with Dick and then v/ith his 
father. Jean had been constantly in the sick room. 
She needed a change and rest, and the mother was 
doing nicely. Jean, it was decided, should return 


286 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


to college when Dick went for a several weeks’ 
visit with Miss Meile. Dr. Roberts insisted upon 
her going at once, and that under no circumstances 
should she be allowed to enter her classes until she 
had had several months of rest and care. 

Jack advised that Jean give up all hope of enter- 
ing her own class in Latin, but that she go into the 
new beginning class at the opening of the winter 
term. 

You will have lost a year, Jean, but it could 
not be helped,” said Jack. 

And thus it happened that, much against her own 
will, Jean yielded to the entreaties of all and went 
with Dick when he returned to Milton. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


JEAN RE-ENTERS THE EATIN CEASS. 

‘‘ While others fish with craft for great opinion, 

I with great truth catch mere simplicity ; 

Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, 

With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. ’ ’ 

— Shakespeare, 

The second day of school found Jean reclining 
in the large easy-chair in Miss Meile’s room. Her 
mother had seemed so much improved when she 
came away that, unknown to her father and brothers, 
Jean entertained the hope of entering all the regu- 
lar classes, save her Latin, after a few days of rest. 

It was so pleasant to be back among the students ; 
so restful to sit quietly with Miss Meile while the 
bells called others to their tasks. Dick came each 
evening to see how she was progressing, and when 
at the end of the first week she seemed so much like 
her old self, and the letters from home had also been 
favorable, he wrote to his father in her behalf and 
gained his consent to Jean’s remaining at school. 

(287) 


288 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


It was after Jean’s intention to enter her classes 
became known that Harry Turner called to see her 
in Miss Meile’s room. 

“ I have come in the name of the Latin class, 
Miss Andrews,” said Harry. “ The class unani- 
mously decided to insist upon your joining us 
again. We have entered a protest against your 
present plan.” 

“ But, Mr. Turner, you seem to forget that I have 
had only three short months in preparation, and that 
you are so far ahead of me that I cannot possibly do 
the work which you are doing,” said Jean. “ I 
think there is no other way for me to continue my 
Latin than by following Jack’s advice.” 

“ I saw the professor about that, and he said that 
you could enter our class provided that you came 
in soon. Come in to-morrow just to visit. We 
will have prose composition, and it will seem like 
the lessons of last year to you,” urged Harry. 

‘‘ I will go and see how wise you have grown,” 
answered Jean. ‘‘ I have wished several times to 
see the room and my old class again. Possibly if 
you do not discourage me entirely, and the pro- 
fessor is willing, I may enter.” 

“ That’s right ; now do not disappoint us,” said 
Harry, glad that he had gained his point. 

The following morning Jean found herself in the 


JEAN re-enters the eatin ceass. 289 

familiar room. The class had not changed per- 
sonally save by the addition of one new girl, whose 
name appeared upon the roll as Marie Bingham. 
She was a girl with winning manners, who had 
come to Milton as an advanced student, and was in 
the second year Latin simply because she expected 
to teach Caesar the year following, and wished 
to review the work and study Professor Newcomb’s 
methods at the same time. Miss Bingham did 
not recite with the rest, but was at liberty to ask 
any questions she chose. 

Professor Newcomb had come from the far East, 
where he had but recently taken a second degree. 
He was exceedingly pleasant, but very thorough in 
the class-room ; he had already become a favorite 
with his students. When Harry Turner asked him 
to allow Jean to continue her Latin with her class, 
he was under the impression that she had missed 
but one week, and on this account readily granted 
the request. 

To Jean the lesson in prose composition, which 
chanced to be the lesson the day of her visit, did not 
seem so difficult nor so unlike the work which she 
had done the previous year. At the end of the 
hour when the professor approached her and said, 
You are a member of the class. Miss Andrews? ” 
Jean answered, ‘‘ Yes, sir. I was in the class last 

19 


290 


THE WIEE and the WAY. 


year, but my brother advised me to enter this year’s 
beginning Latin instead.” 

“ I think that would be a mistake. My col- 
leagues all speak very highly of your work, and I 
am quite sure that you can easily gain what the 
class has gone over in your absence.” 

Jean hesitated but one moment, and then, con- 
trary to Jack’s advice, she registered as a member 
of the Latin class of the second year, and left the 
room under the impression that the professor knew 
how little Latin she had really had, and that he 
would not require more work than she could well 
do under the circumstances. 

When at dinner Jean asked Dick to lend her his 
Csesar, he objected. 

“ The professor cannot know all about your 
work,” he said. 

Jean told Dick what Professor Newcomb had 
said, and that he had advised her to enter the class 
and gain one year thereby, and Dick reluctantly 
consented ; he intended, however, to see the pro- 
fessor himself in regard to the matter. Office work, 
combined with his studies, wholly occupied his 
time, and, when he heard no more concerning her 
Latin from Jean, he concluded that the professor 
understood, and that he had accommodated the 
work to her needs. 


JEAN re-enters the EATIN CEASS. 291 

Jean took Dick’s books to her room and bravely 
began the translation of her first Latin lesson. The 
vocabulary v/as new to her, and the long sentences 
were much more difficult than those which she had 
translated in the lessons of the former year. After 
a prolonged effort with no results, she concluded 
that Jack was right after all, and she was about to 
abandon the study for the time being, when her 
eyes chanced to rest upon Lottie’s motto above her 
table : 

“Where There is a Wiee There is a Way.” 

‘‘ I do have the will ! ’’ exclaimed Jean, with em- 
phasis, and she renewed her efforts. 

Notwithstanding her hard effort, she entered the 
Latin room the following morning with a poorly- 
prepared lesson. Jean was very sensitive where 
her class record was concerned, and felt ill at ease. 
To make a failure in recitation would be for her a 
new experience. That first day Professor Newcomb 
kindly passed her by, and again she returned to her 
study to work harder, if possible, than she had the 
day before. 

‘‘ It will soon grow easier for me,’’ Jean replied, 
when Lottie had protested, and she went to work 
resolutely. 

Jean was destined to suffer more than one failure 


292 the will and the way. 

ill her attempt to master the study. After several 
weeks had passed, and she had worked very hard, 
the professor, v/ho had been led to hope for better 
results, became somewhat discouraged. She was 
still so far below the standard of her class that he 
had decided to recommend her for the beginning 
class from which he himself had dissuaded her. 
Jean’s friends in the faculty objected so strongly to 
the professor’s intended move that he consented to 
give her another trial. 

No one thought to explain that Jean had missed 
her preparation for the work which the class was 
doing ; that in the former year the work had been 
hurried ; that Jack’s method had been a theory ; and 
that Jean had not been in the class long enough to 
receive the benefit from his experiment. All these 
things were unknown to Professor Newcomb, and 
he secretly wondered what Jean’s classmates and 
professors found to admire in so stupid a girl, when 
he consented to give her a two weeks’ further 
trial. 

It was Monday morning. Jean had worked even 
harder than before on the lesson in prose composi- 
tion. She entered the class-room for the first time 
with any degree of assurance. She felt that at last 
she had begun to conquer. 

She was asked to place a difficult sentence upon 


JEAN re-enters the EATIN CEASS. 293 

the board. Jean did so, confident that her work 
was at least nearly right. 

The professor had waited so long in vain for 
results from her efforts, that now, when her sentence 
appeared to be correct, he thought he saw traces of 
copying from the text of a former lesson. 

I am afraid Csesar would not feel highly com- 
plimented to see your rendering of his Latin, Miss 
Andrews.’’ 

The professor spoke harshly, and Jean felt the 
rebuke all the more because she had not merited it. 

It was the end of the hour. She had never 
received a reprimand in class before. She could 
not understand why the professor had done it ; he 
himself had urged her to go into the class, and Jean 
thought that no one could have worked harder than 
she had worked. Willie Armstrong’s face rose be- 
fore her with its flushed cheeks and pleading eyes. 

Professor Newcomb had not understood her, Jean 
felt sure. She would not go back to her room — she 
could not tell Lottie what had happened. She tied 
her veil over her face and started out aimlessly — to 
think. She wandered along the path where she 
had gone one year before, when she had met Harry 
Turner in the woods. She was smarting under the 
reproof which she had openly received. She re- 
membered now that the sentence was similar to a 


294 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


passage from Csesar which they had had in their les- 
son the week previous, but she had followed it un- 
consciously. She had decided to give it all up, to 
abandon her intention to gain an education, and 
to remain quietly at home. Lottie’s motto rang in 
Jean’s ears. She remembered how she had used it 
for Willie Armstrong’s benefit, and she resolved to 
make one more effort. If she failed again she would 
go home. To endure the disgrace of being put back 
into the lower class was something which Jean 
thought she would not undertake. But if she in- 
tended to make her resolution effective she had no 
time to lose, and she hastened back toward Fen- 
wick Hall. 

“ Where have you been, and what is the mat- 
ter?” exclaimed Lottie. “You are as white as 
your collar, and you have missed your dinner. 
Dick was anxious about you, as were we all.” 

“ Never mind me, Lottie ; I am tired. I am 
going to rest awhile,” said Jean, wearily, as she re- 
moved her hat and veil and threw herself upon the 
bed. She did not sleep, but tried to calm her rest- 
less spirit while she lay quietly with closed eyes. 
It was late in the afternoon when she arose and 
seated herself at her study table. 

“Lottie, please do not ask me any questions, 


JEAN RE-ENTERS THE LATIN CLASS. 295 

and do not disturb me. I am going to get that 
Latin,’’ said Jean, in a most decided tone. 

‘‘ Why, Brownie ! ” exclaimed Lottie, but she 
said no more. Lottie saw by the determined look 
in Jean’s eyes and the firmly-set expression of her 
lips that something unusual had revealed to her a 
new phase of character in her friend. 

Jean took down her Latin books and went to 
work. Lottie waited for some time for an expla- 
nation, but Jean seemed oblivious to her presence. 
The room was silent save for the occasional flutter 
as Jean turned the pages of her lexicon and gram- 
mar, and the click of Lottie’s needles. 

The supper bell was unheeded by Jean. 

“ Come,” said Lottie. 

Jean’s only answer was to look at Lottie and 
shake her head, and then she bent again to her 
task. Her face wore the same resolute expression, 
and Lottie understood that Jean was making a 
heroic effort to master her Latin, and quietly left 
the room. 

Lottie felt relieved when she saw that Dick was 
also absent from supper. She herself could not ex- 
plain Jean’s strange conduct until after she had 
gleaned the story of her disgrace in the morning 
recitation from Harry Turner. 


296 the wiee and the way. 

“ That insolent professor ! ” she exclaimed as she 
placed a glass of milk near Jean. ‘‘ Poor Brownie ! 
no wonder you are all broken up.” 

Jean glanced at Lottie with the shadow of a smile 
upon her face, but did not reply, and again the 
room was silent. Jean had set herself about her 
task like flint, and was not to be moved. Her hard 
work for weeks had not been without effect ; the 
morning’s lesson had been less difficult, and her 
present undertaking was not hopeless. When the 
retiring bell rang she arose from her chair with a 
look that betokened victory upon her face. Her 
only remark to Lottie was, ‘‘ Unless I do better in 
Latin to-morrow, I am going home on the afternoon 
train.” 

“Nonsense, Jean! There are other studies be- 
sides Latin, and other professors who are human,” 
replied Lottie. 

“ I did try hard, Lottie, but it did seem that I 
could do nothing with it before,” said Jean. “ I 
will not fail again.” 

“No, Jean, I do not believe you will. You are 
bound to succeed ; but at this rate your success will 
be short-lived. I am going to put you to bed, and 
get you a cup of hot tea from Miss Meile’s room,” 
said Lottie. 

Lottie soothed Jean by gently rubbing her aching 


JEAN re-enters the LATIN CLASS. 297 

forehead until she had the satisfaction of seeing the 
tired eyelids droop and Jean was resting. 

The morning, however, revealed her already at 
her work when Lottie awoke. 

“ How long have you been there? ’’ asked Lottie. 

‘‘ Since four o’clock,” replied Jean. ‘‘ I feel quite 
refreshed and rested, thank you, Lottie.” 

“And your Latin ? ” asked Lottie. 

“ I think I have it. I am reviewing it and work- 
ing up the constructions this morning. If I fail this 
time, I will be sorely disappointed.” 

Jean did not fail. The translation of a difficult 
passage went from one to another, and each failed 
in turn ; even Miss Seymore could do nothing with 
it, though Jean saw the written translation in her 
book. 

“Well, Miss Andrews, will you try it?” asked 
the professor. His tone indicated that he expected 
nothing, and had asked her merely not to be rude. 

Jean’s face flushed, but she read the passage 
bravely, while the professor regarded her with sur- 
prise. 

“ That was correctly translated, and a very 
smooth and graceful rendering,” said he when Jean 
had finished. “ Now, let us see how you explain 
the constructions.” 

Jean went through the ordeal with credit, and the 


298 the wiel and the way. 

professor’s ‘‘ well done ” was the signal for hearty 
applause from the entire class. 

At the close of the hour Professor Newcomb ap- 
proached Jean. 

“ I wish to congratulate you upon your success 
this morning, Miss Andrews, and to beg your par- 
don for what happened yesterday. I did not learn 
until to-day under what disadvantage you are 
working.” 

“I do not think that the criticism which you 
made yesterday will apply to my work,” said Jean. 
“ To me it seemed as unjust as it was uncalled for. 
I knew that there was some misunderstanding 
somewhere, or I would never have returned to the 
class.” 

“ I will know better henceforth how to direct 
your work. Miss Andrews ; and if you will come to 
the recitation-room a few moments before time each 
morning I will give you references to the grammar 
for the next day’s lesson. I think that if you were 
to work in that way for a few months your work 
would grow very much easier,” said the professor. 

“ Thank you very much. Professor Newcomb,’^ 
said Jean. ‘‘ That would have greatly aided me in 
the beginning, but I do not believe that I need it 
now,” and she passed out into the hall, where 
Harry Turner awaited her. 


JEAN RE-ENTERS THE EATIN CLASS. 299 

Miss Andrews, I have been wanting to see you 
ever since class yesterday morning. I am to blame 
for the unpleasantness. I must have blundered 
terribly in that interview with Newcomb. In some 
unaccountable manner I left him under the im- 
pression that you had been with us all last year, 
and when he consented to your continuing the 
work, he thought you had only missed the week at 
the beginning of the term. I imagine he will be 
easier on you now,’’ said Harry. 

I do not care to pose as a privileged member of 
the class. Unless my work is as good as it should 
be I will drop out,” said Jean decidedly. 

That was the beginning of work such as Jean 
had never known before. She learned to apply 
herself to her task in a determined manner. Her 
class work improved constantly, and as the days 
passed it grew easier for her to prepare her lessons. 
She sat at the study table almost constantly. Aside 
from her walks with Dick and an occasional game 
of tennis with Lottie, she had no diversion. 

Lottie’s motto had begun to read differently to 
Jean. She had made another of her own, which 
read : 

^‘The way is hard work, and the will to do it 
leads to success.” 

The professor began to regard Jean in a new 


300 


THE WILE AND THE WAY. 


light. Miss Seymore’s translations and renderings 
of difficult English into Eatin were nearly always 
correct, but she was unable to explain the construc- 
tions used ; on the other hand, Jean knew what she 
did and why she did it, so definitely that he had 
begun to appeal to her where explanations were re- 
quired. 

Jean knew full well that Miss Seymore’s reader 
was interlined with pencil marks, and that her sen- 
tences in prose composition were freely copied from 
an elder sister’s note-book. She despised the means 
used by her rival, but was far above mentioning 
her discovery even to Mr. Turner, and day after day 
she saw the girl whom she liked the least of all the 
girls in the whole school carry off, as she thought, 
the honors of the class-room. Jean frequently spent 
hours of hard work upon a lesson, while Miss 
Seymore played tennis upon the campus, and in 
the recitation Jean would at best give a faulty ren- 
dering of a difficult passage, where Miss Seymore’s 
work would seem like a marvel of excellence. 

“ Miss Andrews, did you get that lesson ? ” asked 
Harry Turner, one morning when the work assigned 
the class had seemed to him unusually difficult. 

No,” answered Jean. ‘‘ I worked upon it all the 
time that I could possibly get. It is harder than 
anything v/e have had before.” 


JEAN RE-ENTERS THE EATIN CEASS. 301 

‘‘ I think Miss Seymore will have it,” said 
Harry, and he smiled in a peculiar manner. 

I think she will,” answered Jean slowly. 

‘‘ I would rather fail honestly than to get my 
lessons as she does,” said Harry. 

Jean looked relieved. To be measured by Grace 
Seymore’s work had seemed so unfair heretofore. 

“ I wonder whether the professor mistrusts ? ” said 
Jean. 

‘‘ I think he does,” answered Harry. ‘‘Let us 
see how he acts to-day.” 

There was no further opportunity for conversa- 
tion. Just then the professor entered the room, fol- 
lowed by Miss West and Miss Seymore. 

‘‘ Did you find the lesson difficult. Miss 
Andrews?” asked the teacher pleasantly. 

‘‘ Very,” replied Jean honestly. 

How much time did you give to it ? ” he asked 
again. 

“All the time there was,” answered Jean. “ I 
worked at it part of the afternoon, the entire even- 
ing, and again this morning.” 

“ How much time did you give fo the transla- 
tion, Miss Seymore ? ” asked the professor. 

“About twenty minutes,” answered Miss Seymore 
proudly. 

Jean bit her lip with vexation. The unpleasant 


302 the wile and the way. 

comparison was made more unpleasant still by Miss 
Seymore’s haughty manner. 

‘‘Miss West, will you translate?” said the pro- 
fessor, as if nothing unusual had occurred. 

Ivibbie West read falteringly and slowly. At the 
end of the first long sentence Mr. Turner took up 
the translation. Harry read rapidly but incor- 
rectly. 

“ Miss Andrews, you may continue,” said the pro- 
fessor. 

Jean translated as best she could, but she knew 
by the expression on the professor’s face that she 
had made many mistakes. 

“Will you continue. Miss Seymore?” said Pro- 
fessor Newcomb. 

Jean imagined that she saw a queer twinkle in 
the professor’s dark eyes ; he regarded Miss Sey- 
more intently while she read all that remained 
of the day’s lesson. She read so smoothly and 
readily that it seemed as if it could not have been 
at all difficult. 

“A beautiful translation. Miss Seymore ; that is^ 
a very fine edition — I beg pardon, a fine transla- 
tion.” 

Harry Turner alone appreciated the professor’s 
blunder. Upon Jean it was wholly lost. To her 
it was but a slip of the tongue. 


JEAN RE-ENTERS THE EATIN CEASS. 303 

Miss Seymore’s black eyes flashed angrily as she 
answered : 

“ I do not understand.” 

The professor smiled in reply and turned to Miss 
West in a minute examination of the text. The 
hour was most interestingly spent. The students 
were most eager to learn what they had failed to 
understand. Miss Seymore looked intently out of 
the window, and her cheeks were very red. The 
professor, not desiring to humiliate her further, did 
not direct his questions to her. 

‘‘That was a stunner,” said Harry Turner to 
Jean as soon as they were out of hearing of the 
other members of the class. 

“What was the matter?” asked Jean. “Why 
did Miss Seymore act so angry after the professor 
praised her work ; and why did Professor Newcomb 
pass her by entirely in the questions ? ” 

“ That is the joke. She has been ponying all 
along, and the professor gave the game away, unin- 
tentionally, I think.” 

“ Ponying? ” questioned Jean. 

“ Yes. You are innocent, sure,” said Harry, 
“ She used a translation.” 

“ Oh-o-h ! I see,” said Jean. 

“ Yes. She easily turned out elegant English in 
twenty minutes, where we lesser mortals groaned 


304 the will and the way. 

for hours in the work of producing a decidedly 
inferior article. 

“ Well, Miss Andrews, go to your room and rest 
assured that honest effort wins its reward,” and 
Harry assumed a fatherly tone as he waved Jean off. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 


THE GHOST’S END. 

“A proper secrecy is the only mystery of able men/’ — 
Chesterfield, 

It was the last week in October, and the day 
following Miss Seymore’s humiliation. Jean was 
busily engaged in study when Elsie McKenzie 
entered the room. 

“Jean,” said Elsie, “I want you to come with 
me. I am going to take a long walk out into the 
woods, and I do not want to go alone. I want 
someone whom I can trust.” 

“ I will be very glad to be of service to you,” 
answered Jean, rising from her chair. “ What 
secret is it that you wish to confide in me? ” 

“ Walls have ears,” replied Elsie. “You will 
learn it soon enough.” 

“You need more of this kind of exercise, Jean. 
I never see you outside the college halls this year,” 
said Elsie, as they walked briskly along the lane 
leading to the forest. “You are even more of a 
20 (305) 


3o6 the wiee and the way. 

book worm than Jack was, and that does not seem 
possible.” 

The two girls stopped to gather the bright 
autumn leaves, they chased squirrels, and tossed 
pebbles into the stream. Jean had ceased to 
wonder what Elsie’s secret could be. She had con- 
cluded that it was the walk alone which had in- 
duced her friend to seek her companionship. 

‘‘ Now, Jean, look everywhere. Use your eyes 
well. Is there anyone within sight or hearing ? ” 
said Elsie. 

Jean complied with her request. ‘‘ I can see no 
one,” she replied. 

“ Well, here is my secret,” and Elsie drew a 
ram’s horn, most curiously shaped, out of her 
pocket and placed it to her lips. 

“ The Halloween ghost ! ” exclaimed Jean, as the 
familiar wail sounded on the quiet October air. 

‘‘Yes,” said Elsie. “ I must practice up. Have 
you forgotten that to-night is Halloween ? ” 

“ I have been too busy to trouble myself about 
such things,” said Jean. “ But that accounts for 
the ghost being so near us the night Dalton was 
watching.” 

“Yes,” laughed Elsie. “ I have had more gen- 
uine fun out of that horn for three successive years 
than anything else that has happened since I came 


THK GHOST’S END. 307 

here. It was the easiest thing in the world to man- 
age, for I knew just where and when they w^ould 
watch for it. You remember the night your 
brother Dick and the ‘Anti-Ghost Club ’ were at 
the east end of Femvick Hall, just under the win- 
dow ? I blew it into their very ears, through the 
closed shutters.” 

“ What are you doing now? ” asked Jean. 

“ This is the ghost’s fourth year. As a senior it 
must pass out of college life naturally, and, for 
fear that some superstitious minds may entertain 
grave doubts as to the nature of the ghost, we will 
bury it to-night. Everything is ready, and after 
the ten-o’clock bell the death-wail of our friend will 
resound, and to-morrow everyone upon the campus 
will know that the ghost is no more. Now do 
not ask me any questions, but wait and keep 
mum.” 

Elsie proceeded to practice upon the peculiar in- 
strument, bringing forth sounds that caused Jean to 
shiver, though she knew the source. 

“It is excellent lung practice,” said Elsie, when 
she stopped to rest again, “ and one that I can heart- 
ily recommend to Professor Hilton for. his elocution 
classes.” 

“ How horrible ! ” exclaimed Jean. 

“ Not more so than their elocutionary efforts, I 


3o8 the wiee and the way. 

assure you,” laughed Elsie, as she placed the horn 
to her lips again. 

“ It is getting very late,” finally remarked Elsie. 
“ I am sorry we cannot stay half an hour longer ; it 
is not quite bad enough yet.” 

‘‘ I cannot imagine anything worse,” replied 
Jean. 


“ See our unique invitations for this evening,” 
said Miss McKenzie, when Jean and Elsie, some- 
what tardy, had taken their places at the supper 
table. 

At each plate lay a quaintly designed card re- 
questing the young ladies of Fenwick Hall to spend 
the evening with Miss Meile. Similar cards in- 
vited the young men to spend a social hour with 
the bachelor professors in Room A. 

Jean saw Edna flash Elsie a knowing look, as she 
remarked : 

“ That will be ever so much nicer than amusing 
ourselves.” 

‘‘ How about the ghost this year ? ” asked Dalton. 
“ It failed utterly to remind us of the eventful date 
this time.” 

“ It perished in its last effort,” said Malan, and 
the “ table ” laughed heartily, to the annoyance of 
Dalton. 


THE GHOST’S END. 309 

If it does not appear to-night,” quietly re- 
marked Elsie, as she helped herself to a lump of 
sugar, ‘‘ I shall lose all confidence in its ghost- 
ship.” 

“ It has been silent for an entire year, and, since 
it failed to make its appearance at the usual date, 
I take it for granted that it has sought a more con- 
genial clime,” said Benton. 

Much to Jean’s relief, the conversation drifted 
into other channels, and the ghost was not men- 
tioned again. 

The girls understood that it was the usual tact of 
the preceptress, whom they dearly loved, that had 
caused the invitations for the pleasant evening in 
her rooms to be issued, and they were not slow to 
respond. 

Every known device for Halloween usage had 
been prepared by their hostess, and the girls of 
Fenwick Hall were enjoying themselves as only 
college girls can. The evening passed so quickly 
that the sound of the retiring bell was as unex- 
pected as it was unwelcome. The last tones of the 
bell were immediately followed by the cry of the 
Halloween ghost. 

Jean noticed for the first time that Elsie and Edna 
were not in the room. It was but an instant, how- 
ever, before both the girls entered, bearing a tray of 


310 


THE WILE AND THE V/AY. 


apples and nuts, as naturally as if they had not even 
heard the ghost. 

‘‘ That terrible thing again ! ” exclaimed Miss 
Meile. 

“ We may well be grateful that we have been 
spared the usual siege,” said Miss Howell. 

“ This is the fourth year ; possibly it will be the 
last,” remarked Elsie, as she placed the apples on 
the table near Miss Meile. 

“ I hope so,” said a number of voices in chorus. 

“ Come, see the boys hunting the ghost ! ” cried 
a girl from near the window. 

The entire party from Room A had turned out 
for the search. 

The girls were granted an additional hour by 
Miss Meile, and were soon busily engaged cracking 
nuts, naming apple-seeds, and popping chestnuts, 
and the unpleasant visitor was forgotten. 

Shouts of laughter from the campus the morning 
following the Holloween party caused the girls from 
Fenwick Hall to peep out through the shutters. 

‘‘What can it be?” exclaimed Lottie, when a 
newly-made grave under the old willow by the well 
met her astonished gaze. White slabs marked the 
head and foot of the mound. The students were 
gathered about the grave reading the epitaph : 


THE GHOST’S end. 


3 ^^ 

The Halloween ghost will wail no more ; 

Its college days at last are o’er. 

It calmly lies beneath the sod 

Of the campus green it oft hath trod.” 

A Spade was brought and the turf hastily re- 
moved, and a small box was brought to the surface. 
The box was opened and the ram’s horn exposed to 
view, amid shouts of laughter. 

The horn was declared a curiosity aside from its 
associations, and was given place in the college 
museum. 

The Halloween mystery was at last explained, 
hut the secret of its visitations and the newly-made 
grave was known only to a few girls in Fenwick 
Hall, and old Jeremiah. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


jean’s EASTER. 

“ He lives ! Again He lives ! 

I hear the voice of love. 

He comes to soothe my fears 
And draw my soul above.” 

Off^ice duties, combined with class work, kept 
Dick Andrews very busy^ but he found time for 
the Master’s service. His place in the youug peo- 
ple’s meeting was seldom vacant, and the pastor had 
learned to depend upon him in no small degree for 
any phase of church work which might require his 
quick brain and ready hand. To Dick there was 
pleasure in discharging these duties, and he de- 
clared to Karl that he could study the better for it. 
The service he loved above all others was the Sun- 
day afternoon devotional meeting in Dr. Hegel’s 
study. 

Dick greatly assisted Lottie in her work in the 
Sunday school and church choir, and, through 
Dick, Lottie was led to higher aims and motives. 
She continued to sing in the church and to teach 
(312) 


JEAN’S KASTERo 313 

in the Sunday school ; but it was a song of praise 
and thanksgiving coming from Lottie’s heart, and 
no longer a mere kindness to the pastor or loyalty 
to her church. The children she taught that she 
might lead them to the Saviour, whom she had 
known all her life, but whom she had never loved 
as she loved Him now. 

Jean, too, had been influenced by Lottie and 
Dick, and almost unconsciously she had lost her 
old resentment for things religious. She was often 
to be found in the house of worship, and with 
Lottie she faithfully attended the Young Women’s 
Christian Association meetings, as Katie’s prayer 
meetings were now called ; but Jean had not learned 
the submission of her own to the Father’s will. She 
had aims and ambitions of her own. School and 
study were primarily the moving influences in her 
life, and church and church work were secondary. 

It was at the beginning of the winter term of 
school that new influences were brought to bear 
upon Jean. 

Elizabeth Tremb’.e had taken the room next to 
No. 26, and in her Jean had found a girl after 
her own heart. She was bright in her studies, 
gentle in her manners, and personally very at- 
tractive. She became very popular with both 
teachers and students. Jean and Elizabeth were 


314 'I'HE wiee and the way. 

mucli together. Sometimes Lottie, when free from 
choir practice and teachers’ meetings, would join 
them in a walk, but usually Jean and Elizabeth 
went alone. 

Elizabeth allowed nothing to interfere with her 
attendance at church service oh Sunday, and no 
storm was so severe as to keep her from the mid- 
week prayer meetings. If the lessons for the day 
following the meeting chanced to be very difficult, 
Elizabeth’s door was securely locked an hour before 
the study bell rang, in order that she might gain 
the seclusion and quiet necessary for the prepara- 
tion of her lessons. Without fear of failure in her 
classes, she was better able to enjoy the hour in His 
sanctuary. 

Elizabeth had tried to persuade Jean to accom- 
pany her when the meetings promised to be un- 
usually interesting. 

“ I cannot understand, Elizabeth, why you con- 
sider it your duty to take one whole hour out of 
your study time each week to attend the prayer 
meetings at the church,” said Jean. 

“ I do not consider it a duty, Jean ; it is a privi- 
lege, and I gladly give one of my leisure hours in 
exchange in order that I may gain the benefit,” re- 
plied Elizabeth. 

Jean had never heard Dick or Lottie talk of 


jean’s EASTER. 


315 

privileges and benefit in connection with their at- 
tendance at church service ; even Miss Meile had 
always urged it as a duty. 

I did not urge you to attend the special meet- 
ings during the Lenten season because I thought 
for one moment that it was your duty to take the 
time from your studies and give it to the church. 
I did urge it, however, because I thought the good 
which you would derive from the meetings well 
worth the sacrifice of one hour’s recreation each 
week,” said Elizabeth. 

‘‘ What are the meetings to be like ? ” asked Jean. 

‘‘A series of lectures or talks by Dr. Bennet on 
^Christ the Fulfillment of Prophecy.’ That ought 
to be sufficient recommendation,” answered Eliza- 
beth. 

Dr. Bennet was the professor of philosophy in 
college. Jean had met him incidentally, but she 
knew of him as a teacher and scholar through Jack. 

“It is the opportunity of a life-time,” continued 
Elizabeth, “ and you may regret it later if you do 
not take advantage of the professor’s kindness.” 

Jean considered her friend’s request with the 
result that at the first lecture she was present with 
Elizabeth. 

She needed no further urging. The professor’s 
interpretation of prophecy in the Old Testament as 


3i6 the wiee and the way, 

fulfilled in the New was a theme so intensely inter- 
esting that Jean was grateful to her friend for hav- 
ing persuaded her to go. 

Jean had attended all the lectures and had learned 
much that was new to her. She had become sa 
deeply interested that, like Dick, she began to read 
and study for herself, and many truths which she 
had but known obscurely stood out so clearly that 
they could no longer be misunderstood. 

She had recognized in the Carpenter of Nazareth, 
the King of Israel and the Saviour of mankind. 
And when, at the close of the professor’s lectures, 
the Lenten season merged into Passion Week — in 
which the last days and sufferings of our Lord were 
brought near to all who attended the daily service 
in the lecture-room of Christ’s Church — Jean heard 
the invitation of love from the Master, and her 
heart responded to the call. Angels heralded the 
tidings, and there was rejoicing in heaven over the 
soul that had learned to know its Redeemer on the 
resurrection morn. 

Jean arose from the altar, where she had testified 
to her knowledge of Christ by publicly naming His 
name, with new aims and new purposes in life. She 
had entered upon the service of the Master — with 
her a service of love. 

Dr. Miller had been greatly comforted by the 


jean’s EASTER. 


317 


morning service. The Easter message had filled 
his soul with joy and hope, and he became recon- 
ciled to wait until the Father should see fit to call 
him hence. 

He saw Lottie and Jean pass out of the church 
together. He knew that the two girls — the one 
naturally careless and indifferent in her religious 
life and the other disposed to resent every influence 
savoring of piety — had gone into the service of the 
Master ready to do His bidding, whatsoever it might 
be, and that both would be efficient workers in 
whatever they might feel themselves called upon 
to do. Dr. Miller reflected upon little Katie’s in- 
fluence upon the lives of the two girls. He knew 
that it was Katie’s illness that made the close asso- 
ciation possible, and her death that had firmly fixed 
the lessons learned, and Dr. Miller exclaimed, ‘‘Even 
so it is well ! ‘For God so loved the world that He 
gave His only-begotten Son as a propitiation for 
our sins.’ ” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


MISS MEILE. 

“When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord 
■will take me up.” — Bible. 

The girls of Fenwick Hall had often wondered 
concerning the past history of their kind-hearted 
preceptress. That some great sorrow had crossed 
her life, they felt sure. The plain gold band upon 
the marriage finger was to them an unsolved prob- 
lem. The heavy crape which she constantly wore 
had never been explained by her in any way. The 
student who regularly brought the mxail to Fenwick 
Hall had never had for Miss Meile a communication 
from the outside world. Every approach made ta 
the subject of her past by the girls was met with 
an evasive answer and such a look of sadness in the 
face of their beloved preceptress, that gradually 
they ceased to question her, and every girl in Fen- 
wick Hall accepted Miss Meile as her best and 
truest friend. 

Miss Meile dearly loved to have Jean near her. 
At such times, seated near the fire-place in her own. 
(318) 


MISS MKII.E. 


3^9 


easy-chair, with Jean upon the little stool at her 
feet, she would draw the girl near to her in a loving 
caress, and rest her hand upon the brown braids, 
while she gazed silently into the coals. Upon one 
occasion Jean had held the little white hand in her 
own, and stroked it softly. The familiar caress 
reminded her of her mother, and, unconsciously, 
while thinking of home, she nearly slipped the little 
gold band from off Miss Meile’s finger. 

“No, Jean ! No. It has never been off since he 
placed it there ! ” exclaimed Miss Meile, excitedly. 

“I beg your pardon, Miss Meile. I was not 
conscious of what I was doing. You made me think 
of mother when you drew me up to you so, and my 
mind was at homxe,” said Jean. 

Jean continued to hold the hand, but she asked 
no questions concerning the ring. She had heard 
Miss Meile’s exclamation and wondered at it. 

“Jean, do you know why I love to have you near 
me?” Miss Meile finally asked. “You remind me 
of my own little sister, whom I have not seen for 
years. I do not even know that she is living. I 
have never seen one person resemble another as 
much as you resemble Reba.” 

“ I am glad, Miss Meile, if the resemblance 
affords you pleasure,” said Jean. 

“ I never see you sit there by the fireside, but 


320 THE WILL AND THE WAY. 

that I am reminded of a past which I have tried in 
vain to forget. It comes back so vividly that it 
seems but yesterday that I lived it. It pains me to 
recall it, and yet I love to have you near me — in- 
consistent creature that I am. Some time, when I 
can bear it, I will tell you about Reba, but not to- 
night, Jean.” 

‘‘ Whenever you wish. Miss Meile,” replied Jean. 
She knew what the girls had said concerning Miss 
Meile’s reticence in regard to her past, and awaited 
her friend’s pleasure in revealing as much or as 
little as she chose. Jean loved and trusted Miss 
Meile, and would not cause her pain by asking idle 
questions concerning the things which were locked 
in the secret chambers of her heart. 

They sat in silence for some time. Miss Meile 
continued to stroke Jean’s braids softly and gazed 
into the fire. 

“ Some time, Jean, I will tell you about my own 
girlhood. I have felt that it would be a comfort to 
me to share my story with someone, and you seem 
so much nearer to me — so much like Reba. 

“ Now, good-night, Jean,” said Miss Meile ; ‘‘I 
want to be alone. Come to me to-morrow night, I 
want you.” 

Jean went to her own room. Miss Meile’s confi- 


MISS MKILE. 321 

dence she held as sacred, and did not even tell to 
Lottie what had happened. 

Weeks passed before Miss Meile again touched 
upon the subject of her past. 

Jean was again seated near the fire ; she had 
placed the little kettle over the glowing coals and 
was waiting to make the tea, which she had come 
to take regularly with Miss Meile. 

I have something to show you, Jean,” and 
Miss Meile held an open locket before her, where 
Jean could easily see it. She looked into the face 
of a young girl not unlike herself. 

“ Is it Reba? ” asked Jean. 

‘‘Yes, Jean, it is Reba. She was about your age 
when that picture was taken. How I long to see 
her to-night,” and Miss Meile leaned her head upon 
her hand, with the open locket in her lap. 

“ It has been twenty years since last I saw her. 
Twenty years ago I left the only home I had ever 
known. It would not take long to tell you the 
story of my life, but the years have been long. 

“ My home was near the green banks of the Hud- 
son — the name of the town where we lived does not 
matter. My parents were of the Hebrew race. We 
associated constantly with Gentiles, and my sister 
and I seldom came in contact with our own people. 
21 


322 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


My parents regularly attended the services in the 
synagogue in New York City, leaving my sister 
Rebecca and myself in charge of a faithful old nurse 
and governess. Our home was not far distant from 
a military station, and I frequently met some of the 
officers in the homes of my friends. There was one, 
a lieutenant, who called at the house to see me. It 
chanced to be while my parents were away. The 
visit was short ; nothing had been said which I 
could not have repeated to my father, but there is a 
language which needs no words to give expression 
to the feelings, and when at parting he asked per- 
mission to call again, I knew that he loved me, 
and something within my heart told me that his 
love was returned. I dared not tell my parents. 
My father, a prosperous merchant, had business 
dealings with the people whom he despised and 
hated ; but we had early been taught that their re- 
ligion was blasphemy, and that a marriage between 
an Israelite and a Gentile would be an unholy al- 
liance. 

‘‘ I tried to stifle the love within my breast, and 
wrote a letter to the officer in which I told him that 
my parents would not allow me to receive him, since 
we were of a different race. When I read the note, 
after having written it, I realized that I had taken 
his love for granted, and that he had never spoken 


MISS MEII.K. 


323 


to me upon the subject. My pride forbade the 
sending of the note ; I tore it to pieces and scattered 
it to the winds. 

“ The young officer came again at the appointed 
time, and again my parents were away. It was 
unintentional upon my part, I assure you. I would 
gladly have gone to my mother for advice, had I 
not feared her anger. 

The meetings with the officer were very pleas- 
ant, and they grew more frequent. It was not until 
he asked me to become his wife that I realized how 
hopelessly we loved. 

“ The religion of my people had been taught me 
daily. I would have died rather than link my soul 
to an unbeliever, as we termed those who wor- 
shiped Jesus of Nazareth, the Carpenter, as the Son 
of the living God. I made the officer, whom I will 
call Ralph, understand how I felt, and I also told 
him that, aside from my own feelings, it would be 
impossible to win my parents’ consent and blessing, 
without which I would never leave the home roof. 

‘ You will learn differently some time, Marion,’ 
he said. 

‘‘ ‘ I cannot do differently now, ’ I replied. ‘ If 
ever I change my mind, you may come for me, if 
you will wait so long.’ 

It was a hope at which he grasped and begged 


324 '3'HE WIEE and THE WAY. 

for one more interview before leaving for the place 
where he was to join his command, near the line of 
battle in the conflict between North and South. He 
came again, bringing with him the little gold band, 
which he placed upon my finger. 

“ ‘ I cannot accept your faith, Marion,’ he said, 
‘ and do not ask you to believe as I do now. This 
little ring seals our vows of constancy, and when- 
ever you will grant it, I will come to yon.’ 

He left me standing alone under the apple tree 
in the old orchard. I vowed that the little ring 
should never be removed from the finger where he 
had placed it, and that I would never become the 
wife of another. 

‘‘ The months passed. I found my hero’s name 
among those who were in the front in battle. He led 
his men to victory, and then I lost all further trace 
of him. I scanned the lists of dead and wounded 
daily, but in vain. The war closed at last, and tlie 
officers returned to the station near my home. I 
attended all the social gatherings which the little 
town afforded, but I failed to see him. 

“ I was growing old, and my father was anxious 
to have me marry successfully. Suitor after suitor 
was rejected. At last a very wealthy New York 
trader appeared upon the scene. My father had 
grown impatient with what he termed my whims, 


MISS MEILE. 


325 


and insisted upon my acceptance of the man of his 
choice. I refused to see the trader, and astonished 
my parents by telling them that I would never 
many. I told them that I loved another, and 
showed them the ring which the officer had given 
me. 

“ I do not remember all that happened in that 
terrible interview. It seems like a dream, from 
which I awoke to hear my father cry : 

“ ‘ In love with a Gentile? You are no longer a 
daughter of mine. I will not look upon your face 
again — go ! ’ 

‘‘ I looked toward the mother who had borne me, 
but there was not one word of pity for the erring 
child. They refused to let me see my only sister 
once more, and that same day I went from under 
their care, out into the world. 

‘‘ I found shelter in the home of a young girl 
friend. She was an earnest Christian, and wel- 
comed me gladly. We waited in vain, hoping for 
mercy. She even braved an interview with my 
father in my behalf, but to no purpose. Finally, 
through the influence of friends, she secured a posi- 
tion for me as governess in a Gentile family, and I 
took up my work at once. 

“ The years passed, and, through the girl who 
had befriended me, I learned that my mother, nat- 


326 THE WILL AND THE WAY. 

urally frail, had gradually declined, until death 
relieved her, and that not once during her illness 
had my name been uttered in the home of my child- 
hood. To me it was a cruel blow. I had not 
dared to think my father so heartless as to keep me 
from my dying mother. Sorrow seldom kills, and 
I learned to live on and to bear up under my mis- 
fortune. Until then I had adhered strictly to the 
faith of my fathers ; but the tender love and sym- 
pathy of my mistress, to whom my story was known, 
began to melt the icy barriers, and I gradually 
learned to know the Lord Jesus, and one happy day 
I resolved to live for Him alone. The last time 
that I heard from home my sister had married a 
foreigner of our race, and, with my father, had gone 
to live across the ocean. It seemed to me that the 
last tie had been severed, and that I was a homeless 
wanderer. 

“ The remainder of my story is easily told. My 
mistress was a near friend of Dr. Hegel’s, and 
secured the position here for me. I have learned 
to bury my own sorrow from the world, but I 
have not forgotten it. The young girls under my 
charge are very dear to me and I am not altogether 
alone now.” 

“ What became of the officer? ” asked Jean. 

“ I never heard from him again.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 


jean’s success. 

“ When we manage by a just foresight, 

Success is prudence and possession right.” 

— Higgons. 

Jean learned to her dismay that the savings from 
her summer’s work would not carry her through 
the year, even with the most rigid economy. She 
had conferred with Lottie many times in regard to 
her finances. Lottie had advised her to ask her 
father for assistance, but Jean would not make a 
request from her father which she knew he could 
not consistently comply with. She resolved to win 
her own education. When at the opening of the 
.spring term she learned of a vacancy in the graded 
schools of the city, she wrote Mr. Kemper, and 
asked him to help her secure the position. Un- 
known to Dick and Lottie, she received the appoint- 
ment. The graded work, Mr. Kemper informed 
her, would be easier than her work in the village 
school of the previous summer, and would require 

(327) 


328 


THE WILE and the WAY. 


less time in the way of preparation, since she would 
not have so many classes. 

Jean had a long interview with Professor New- 
comb, in which he granted that she might study 
Latin in absentia^ and she arranged for one lesson 
each Saturday morning in Miss Meile’s room. She 
also saw Professor Martin in regard to her geometr}^, 
and easily arranged to continue it in the same way. 

She now carefully wrote her plan in detail to 
her father, and was much surprised to receive his 
consent, accompanied by his best wishes for her 
success. Farmer Andrews had learned to take pride 
in Jean and her work, and to have her enrolled as 
teacher in the large city was no little honor. He 
was willing that Jean should teach, now that the 
mother was doing so nicely and Aunt Jo had de- 
cided to make her home with the farmer’s family 
indefinitely. 

That Jean should continue to go to school under 
the circumstances seemed to him not only a waste 
of time and money on Jean’s part, but also a waste 
of precious influence, which she could have over 
the children in her charge. 

Jean went home to spend the few days between 
the close of the term at Milton and the beginning 
of her work in the city schools. 

To be at home was at all times pleasant, but Jean 


JEAN’S SUCCESS. 


329 


was doubly rejoiced to find her mother able to go 
about the house by means of crutches, and also to 
find that her own religious views had not affected 
the mother adversely. 

Jean, thou hast done what seemed right to thee,” 
she said, referring to Jean’s church relations. “ Dick 
hath already taught us that the religion of the world 
differs only in name and form from the faith of my 
fathers.” 

Jean could scarce believe that she heard aright. 
That her mother should make so great a concession 
seemed impossible. 

“ Oh, mother ! ” she exclaimed, “ it does differ. 
It is not so hard, and it is full of love. I wish, 
mother, that you could know it too, instead of the 
hard religion Neighbor Allen is always preach- 
ing.” 

“ Nay, Jean, my father’s faith is mine, but the 
love of the Christ can enter in a greater measure 
than we have known,” said the mother, and Jean 
knew by the peaceful look which the mother’s coun- 
tenance wore that the Christ-love had entered into 
her faith in a greater degree already. 

‘‘ Did you know. Sis, that you are out in the cold ?” 
exclaimed Fred, the second evening of her short 
visit. ‘‘ Silvester and Sadie were married two weeks 
ago, and are living with the old folks.” 


330 


THE WIEE AND THE WAY. 


I am SO glad,” said Jean. ‘‘ I hope they will be 
very happy.” 

Could’st thou not have cared for Silvester, 
Jean?” asked the mother. 

“ Care for Silvester ! Oh, mother ! ” cried Jean, 
laughing. “ I hated him until I found that it was 
wrong to hate, and then I pitied him. No, mother, 
I could never have cared for him, even a very little.” 

“ Dost thou care for another ? ” asked the mother 
anxiously. 

“Yes, mother, I care for the dearest mother and 
father that any girl ever had, and for five of the 
best brothers that ever lived, and for Aunt Jo, and 
Katherine, and Lottie, but I do not care for anyone 
in the way you mean.” 

Jean’s answer greatly pleased her mother, and she 
talked with delight of her daughter’s work in the 
school. 

Jean commenced teaching, happy in the knowl- 
edge that it met with her father’s approval, and in 
the hope of continuing her studies in college the 
following year. 

She found that Mr. Kemper had spoken truthfully 
when he told her that her duties would be easier 
than they had been in the village school. 

The preparation for her school-work required 
much less time, and Jean found the greater part of 


JEAN’S SUCCESS. 


331 


the evening and all the morning at her command. 
At the close of the first week’s work she took her 
seat in the train for Milton, satisfied to know that 
she had accomplished as much in geometry and 
possibly more in Latin than the respective classes. 

When in the middle of the winter term the class 
in Latin had taken up Cicero, Jean felt herself on 
an equality with the rest. The vocabulary and 
style of the author were equally new to every 
member of the class. 

She learned to employ Elizabeth Tremble’s 
methods in study, and she gained not a little 
thereby. The mind, forced to accomplish a certain 
amount within a fixed limit of time, became dis- 
ciplined in a manner which proved very valuable 
to Jean in her study hours before and after school. 

When she entered Miss Meile’s room at the ap- 
pointed hour she found Professor Newcomb await- 
ing her. She found also that she had done con- 
siderable more work than the class had done in the 
same time. As the weeks passed she was enabled 
to accomplish more than she had dared hope for. 

“What if I had given up that time, Lottie? 
It was your motto that saved me,” said Jean. 

“Where there is a will there is a way,” said 
Lottie slowly. “ Do you know what Newcomb 
told Miss Bingham about you?” 


33 ^ 


THE WIEE and the WAY. 


“No. How could I?” ansAvered Jean. 

“ He said in the Greek class that you had more 
genuine grit than any student that he had ever 
known, and that at your present rate you could 
enter college next year with a condition in Virgil.” 

“ I am so glad,” said Jean joyfully. 

“ And so am I,” said lyottie. 


CHAPTER XXXL 


THE END. 

“All’s well that ends well.’’ — Shakespeare, 

Jack and Julia had been quietly married at 
Julia’s home, and after a short visit at the farm 
they had come to Milton to see Elsie graduate from 
the preparatory school. 

Jean had closed her school in time to attend the 
commencement festivities also. She welcomed 
Julia warmly, and did not feel that she had a 
second place in her brother’s affections, but real- 
ized that the love which Jack had for Julia and 
that which he had for his sister were not the same, 
and the one did not conflict with the other. 

Jean had been left in charge of Miss Meile’s 
room for a short time, while the latter attended to 
some duties relative to the exercises. 

Jean saw a manly, military figure come up the 
broad walk from the entrance to the campus. He 
hesitated and looked about him, and then came 
directly toward Fenwick Hall. Jean started to 

(333) 


334 


THE VvHEE AND THE WAY. 


answer the bell, trembling with hope and fear. 
Could it be the officer for whom Miss Meile had 
waited so long? 

But other eyes had seen the visitor approach and 
other ears had heard the bell. 

Ralph!” 

“ Marion 1 ” 

Jean, unobserved, escaped to Lottie’s room, leav- 
ing the faithful hearts, old in years but young in 
love, blissfully reunited. 


THE END. 


































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